Only You Can Save Mankind
by shewhoguards
Summary: They called them the Wraith, ghosts that walked and brought death on their hands, and no country objected when their brightest and best children were demanded in order to prepare to fight the alien menace. Stargate AU.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

They came when no-one was expecting them, and by the time anyone had realised that what they were dealing with was more than your usual serial killer they had already left thirty people dead behind them. The remains caused confusion, more so when one of them was identified from her clothing as being an eighteen year old college student who had been talking to friends only a day before. From what they had been able to determine from the dessicated remains, the CSI team had thought they were seeking some poor old lady who had been dead for _months_.

Everything changed then, and suddenly it wasn't a matter for the police any more, but for the army. They came determined to hunt the killers down and, to their credit, did not flee when confronted with aliens who seemed able to suck the very life out of people with their hands. They came in numbers, for the aliens numbered only a half-dozen, and perhaps _enough_ guns would be able to defeat that terrifying power.

They were not defeated. Instead, they retreated, returning to their ship. The reaction when it started to rise was fast - shoot it down, get rid of it, kill the threat while there was still a chance - but not fast enough. Monitoring systems said that the radio call had already gone out, perhaps far enough and quickly enough to reach the creature's homeworld or ship, however many lightyears away it might be. The leaders of Earth looked at each other and knew that now, if any, was the time to co-operate while there was still time, before the main fleet followed this scout-ship to the new planet they had found.

They called them the Wraith, ghosts that walked and brought death on their hands, and no country objected when their brightest and best children were demanded in order to prepare to fight it. As they were quick to point out, without those children, there might be no children at all left to fight _for._


	2. Meredith 7

**Meredith**

It was called the Universal Assessment Exam, but that was one of those names that only ever seemed to exist so that somebody could get a fancy acronym out of it. Official documents and adults called it the UAE, but most kids just settled for calling it The Test. There was never any need to qualify that, to explain _which_ test. There was only one really worth referring to.

What age had they started preparing him for it? It was hard to be sure, but Meredith thought that maybe he had first heard his parents talking about how he would do when he was two. How he was likely to do, what he was likely to do well in, how he was _different_ from the other kids. He hadn't had to be _told_ that part, of course. Once he'd realised that no, actually, they weren't just _pretending _to be stupid in order to annoy him, it was pretty obvious. Though he did, still, sometimes suspect that they _were_ just pretending to be dumb, at least some of the time. No-one could be that stupid and still alive, surely.

Years and years of preperation, and it was finally time to take the thing. Different or not, the day after any kid's seventh birthday was the day he or she was taken down to the local test centre to see what they could do. No matter how clever or stupid you were, no matter where you were in the world, you still had to do the test. No exceptions, no excuses.

Another hour, and it would be time to get up, get ready and go. Meredith lay very still, and wondered if the atoms in his bed might oblige him by lining all the electron clouds up so he could fall through and hide underneath, somewhere in the mass of detritus his mother had hidden from sight there. It wouldn't be running away and hiding then, would it? It would just be the world inconveniently preventing him from taking the Test.

Electron clouds refused to cooperate. The bed remained stubbornly solid.

It wasn't that he was afraid he would fail. He _ couldn't _fail, he was almost certain of it. Seven years of racing ahead of people and then impatiently waiting for their minds to catch up with him had done a lot to convince him that if he didn't pass, no-one would. His father had told him off when he said that, had said sternly that there was a difference between confidence and arrogance, and the second trait wasn't at all attractive in a little boy. Even as Meredith had mumbled the apology though, he'd remained convinced that it was nothing less than the truth.

But... you never saw what happened to the people who succeeded. People said that they got sent off to a special school, to be trained in things that normal kids wouldn't keep up with. It all sounded just great, but it was hard for Meredith not to wonder just why none of these kids ever apparently came back for any vacations at all. The lack of adults who had graduated from this "school" was easier to explain - the oldest kids attending would still only just have been in their late teens now - but still, you'd think they would at least some back to _visit._

Unless they weren't there at all. There was a story Meredith had read once, under the covers one night when his parents thought him already safely asleep, about a kid who had to sit a special test to check his intelligence level. Everything had seemed all nice and cheery, and the kid had been happy to go, and then... he'd been too smart and they killed him. That was what they did to kids who were bright enough to think them in circles, smart enough to know when adults hadn't a clue, they killed them so that there was no-one around to make them feel stupid any more.

Of course, it was only a story. Probably. Maybe. What if? Meredith slid down under the sheets until they covered over his head, and wondered if maybe his mother might come in to wake him and think he had already gone.

He could fail the test deliberately, answer the wrong answers, pretend he just didn't know. He chewed over the idea, shifting restlessly under the sheets. Do that, and everyone would think he was just another kid, that he was just _stupid_ like the rest of them. Funny how that seemed even worse than being killed for having too many brains.

A heavy weight landed on the bed, almost directly on top of him, knocking the wind out of him, and he flailed, abruptly distracted from his thoughts. Limbs tangled in the sheets, the cover over his face suddenly seeming suffocating as he tried to get free. Maybe they had decided they didn't need to wait for him to sit the test, maybe they were already here, maybe...

The face, when he emerged, was only inches from his, nose almost touching nose. Small face, framed with blonde hair, small body, dressed in rather grubby animal print pyjamas. His sister beamed at him, as though missing completely that he was about to have a heart attack from sheer panic, and tugged at his sheets, cheerfully stealing the better part of them as she settled down beside him.

"Hi," she greeted, flopping back against his pillows, clearly exhausted by her attack on his sheets.

"Hi." Meredith scowled back at her, still rubbing his stomach tenderly, comforting it. "Jeannie, you know not to jump on people!"

"Sorry!" She managed to say it with an utter lack of repentance, but with such an overwhelming amount of cute that it was hard to stay annoyed, even for Meredith. Sometimes he was certain that Jeannie must practice being cute when no-one else was looking. It was the only logical way that it was possible for her to keep it at such a constantly high level. "I only wanted to see if you were ready for your test."

"Do I look ready?" Meredith demanded, hooking an arm around his pillows before Jeannie could claim all of them for her own. "It's too early to be ready anyway. You should be asleep."

"Uh-uh!" She shook her head to that, quickly denying it, and switched to the singsong voice their mother used when trying to teach them something - the one that made Meredith regularly want to strangle her. He wasn't a baby and Jeannie... Jeannie might be almost a baby still, but they were both _smart_. They didn't need some stupid high-pitched voice to make them remember things. It didn't seem to bother Jeannie so much though. "When the little hand points to the twelve, and the big hand points to the seven, it's seven o clock, and that means it's time to get _up!_" she sang now, and grinned at him, poking him in the side. "It's time to get up, Meredith."

How come a kid who didn't even remember that eating bugs was a bad idea could tell the time well enough to come annoy him into getting up? But Meredith knew the answer to that one, even as he groaned and tried to buy five more minutes by burying his head in the pillows.

Jeannie too was different.

-

Breakfast was a hell beyond imagining. His parents seemed to think he was too blind to notice their anxious looks, and Meredith squirmed in his chair, poking miserably at the well-loaded plate of breakfast his mother had set in front of him. Today even _ his _appetite seemed to be deserting him - and god knew, it wasn't often that happened.

"Not hungry, champ? Here." His father set a mug full of milky-looking liquid down beside his plate. "That should perk you up a bit."

Meredith picked it up, sniffing at it suspiciously, even as his mother pulled a face.

"Coffee, Charles? Isn't seven a little young for that?"

"Plenty of milk in it," his father reassured her. "Besides, he'll need his wits about him today."

The way his mother grimaced but didn't protest further only made Meredith feel worse. Clearly this was the Convict's Last Meal so to speak, the day that they gave him everything special because he'd be too.. too _dead_ to enjoy it later. Fighting the need to throw up, he made a pretence of sipping it, and then set it back on the table.

"Too bitter for you?" His father ruffled his hair, seeming a little disappointed that his gesture hadn't gone down too well. "Ah, well, maybe when you're older, hey?"

"Really, Charles, just because you're addicted to the terrible stuff doesn't mean the children will be," his mother huffed, before softening her voice. "Are you ready to go, Meredith?"

He nodded, sliding down the table, afraid to speak in case he cried. Seven year old boys didn't cry, not ever. Not even if they really wanted to.

"Good boy. Jeannie, wish your brother good luck."

A head poked out from under the table where Jeannie had been attempting to feed Schrodinger, the family cat, her sausage and, less successfully, her mushrooms. "G'luck, Meredith," she said obediently, and grinned at him, a smile spread liberally with tomato ketchup.

"Aren't you going to kiss him goodbye?" their mother prompted.

"No, no, that's fine," Meredith said hastily, already forseeing where most of that ketchup would end up. Delays were all well and good, but some things were too disgusting to contemplate. If that made him a bad big brother for not wanting to spend what was potentially his last day alive covered in second-hand ketchup, well then, it did.

"Kiss!" Jeannie demanded, advancing on him, and, oh _god_, now Meredith could see her hands too, covered in grease, and sauce, and tomato, and who-knew-what else. He decided it was best to flee to the car, while there was still a chance of escape.

-

* * *

His father kept _ looking_ at him on the drive over. Meredith could feel it every time, and reacted by slouching further and further down in the seat, trying not to meet his eyes.

And then they were there, the car pulling up in the car park, and his father hesitated a long moment before reaching to turn off the engine. "Ready to go, champ?"

Meredith opened his mouth to say yes, he really did, but somehow tears got in the way of it. Suddenly, he was snuffling as though he were Jeannie's age, just a great big _baby_, and not a far-too-old-to-cry seven year old who was really way too smart to give into emotions like this. "Don't make me go in!"

"Hey now, what's this, last minute nerves?" His father asked gently, and Meredith loved him for being gentle and hated him for not understanding, all in the same minute. "It's nothing to worry about, Meredith. Just a little test. Gonna be easy for a smart guy like you."

That was the problem! Didn't his father understand? Meredith shook his head, and gulped, trying to get the words out. "They'll kill me in there!"

"What?" His father looked startled, but only for a minute before he reached out to set a hand on Meredith's shoulder. "Do you remember when you read about spontaneous combustion, and then scared yourself all week because you thought yourself getting hot?" he asked. "Your mother had to give you a bucket of water to go to bed with before you would go to sleep?"

Meredith nodded reluctantly.

"And when I read you Moby Dick, and you used to wake up yelling about the whale eating you?"

Another nod. Meredith didn't like to admit that sometimes he still had nightmares about the whale. It was enough to seriously put a boy off learning to swim.

"And when your sister fed the cat soap, and we found you in hysterics because it clearly had rabies?" his father reminded him. "You're a smart boy, Meredith, but I promise you, the world is a lot less dangerous than you think it is. No-one in there wants to hurt you."

"But the test!" Meredith protested wildly. "They'll test to see how smart I am, and then they'll see I'm _too_ smart, and then..." He swallowed hard again, not wanting to finish that sentence.

"And then," his father sighed, "they'll give you a proper education, the sort you _need_, champ, if you're not to spend the rest of your life five years ahead of everyone else and waiting for them to catch up. Your mother and I included." He squeezed Meredith's shoulder before opening the car door. "Come on, now. They'll be waiting."

Reluctantly, Meredith opened his own door and climbed out, legs working to keep step with his father as he headed towards the building. It was, he decided, a surprisingly large building they used to test kids in. Of course, everyone did the test, but it wasn't as though _everyone_ did it in this one building. Every town, every city, everywhere that could be expected to have a significant volume of kids got their own test center. No-one had to travel too much to get to one that way - not more than a couple of hours or so, anyway, and as they all did it the day after their seventh birthdays it wasn't as though they'd all have to do it at once either.

But this building was, while not huge, at least four storeys high. It puzzled at Meredith as his father led him to the entrance. It would be a decent size for a school, but this wasn't a school. You didn't _need_ that much space, surely, just to sit kids in a room to do an exam.

The sight of the woman behind the desk reassured him a little. She didn't _look_ like someone helping to shepherd intelligent children to their deaths. She looked... pretty bored actually, her attention on her monitor as they approached the desk. Rodney, standing on his toes to peer over the desk, had just a second to catch a glimpse of a chat window before she hastily clicked it shut.

"Name?" she said quickly. At least, her _voice_ said that. Her eyes said _'you tell anyone you saw me slacking off, you little slug, and see what I do to you'._

His father squeezed his shoulder, as though to reassure him, but Rodney was grinning, more confident suddenly. These weren't people to be afraid of, he decided now, they were just like everyone else out there - bored, lazy, and most importantly, slower than him. "Meredith Rodney McKay," he identified himself.

Her nose wrinkled for a minute, peering down at him before she glanced at his father. "You do realise it's a federal offence to sit an examination for another child-" she started.

"He's not sitting it for another child." His father sounded exasperated, and Meredith was glad, because _someone _really needed to tell that woman to do her job properly. "His name is Meredith - look, his name is a long story, and also none of your business. I have his ID card here, could you just check it and let us get on, please?"

It took what seemed to be an awfully long minute for the woman to look at the card, and decide that Meredith did indeed refer to the little boy in front of her and not some unseen little girl. Meredith shifted from foot to foot, going rapidly from wanting to avoid the test to just wanting to get on with it. It wasn't as though his card photo _looked_ like a little girl at all.

"Just doing my job - not my fault if you give your kid a weird name," she muttered, in response to his father's growing scowl. "You can go through and sit down. Someone will come through and pick him up - you're fine to wait with him until then."

There seemed to be a few kids through there waiting. Some seemed more nervous than others - one little girl cuddled up to her mother, while another parent impatiently gave her son some last minute coaching.

"Six sevens are?"

"Uh..." The boy looked panicky, staring around the room as though help might materialise. He looked pleadingly at Meredith for a moment, but, when help failed to materialise from that corner, took a wild stab at it. "Sixty three?"

"_No! _For God's sake, Stuart, I thought you'd got the hang of this when we practiced at home!"

Well, with competition like that, there was no way he wasn't going to appear somewhere near the top of the bellcurve. He leaned back in his chair, startling a little when his father squeezed his shoulder again.

"Still nervous?" The question was asked softly, too quiet for the other kids to hear, and Meredith gave a quick shake of his head in answer.

"Good." His father was quiet for a moment, and when Meredith glanced up he realised that he too was watching the mathematically challenged boy in the corner, a slight frown on his face as the mother continued to scold. "Listen, champ, I know your mother and I have talked up this test a lot but... we'll be proud of you, however you do on this, okay? You're our boy, and we don't need some stupid government score to know you're special."

It was true, Meredith knew. If anything, he sometimes suspected his father would have _preferred _a more average son, one he could take to teach to fish without thinking they would need to draw a detailed strategy plan of where the highest probability of catching one might be. His parents didn't love him because he was able to build a working model of Big Ben out of office supplies one bored and rainy afternoon (the paperclips had come in really handy). They loved him because he was _Meredith_. Everything else was just incidental.

It was nice, Meredith decided. Still, even so, he couldn't quite just let that one slide past. "I _will_ do well," he promised quietly. "Better than anyone here, anyway." Probably better than anyone they'd _ever_ tested here for that matter. He'd met the other kids in the area in the few disasterous weeks they'd tried sending him to a normal school, before his mother had withdrawn him and started teaching him at home. He couldn't quite imagine kids who thought 'gooberhead' was an imaginative insult beating him here.

It got a soft chuckle from his father. "I know, I know, I guess I shouldn't underestimate the kid who can run rings around me, huh?" He smiled down at Meredith. "Tell you what, finish this up, and tomorrow we'll go fishing for the day."

The suggestion was so obviously intended to be a treat that Meredith forced himself to smile rather than grimace at the thought. Another long day feeling seasick, getting soaked in freezing water, and probably falling in and nearly drowning. Again. What fun. "That would be great," he said, without enthusiasm.

"Excellent!" his father said happily, and Meredith made a mental note to try and indoctrinate Jeannie into wanting to go fishing instead of him. Preferably _soon._ Little sisters had to be useful for something after all.

"Meredith Rodney McKay!" It was his name being called, and he stood up hastily. A blonde-haired woman bore down on him, smiling in a way just wide enough as to be creepy. "If you'll just come with me, sweetheart, we'll get you started on the testing," she said genially, bending a little so as to be level with Meredith, and speaking in a funny voice as though he needed to be talked to slowly in order to understand anything. "Nothing to be scared of - just need to find out what you're good at, okay?"

She reached as though to take Meredith's hand. Meredith, deciding he hated her on sight, promptly stuck both hands in his pockets, safely out of sight. She looked disgruntled for a moment, and then turned to his father. "If you want to head home, sir, we'll give you a call when he'd done and you can come and pick him up."

Meredith recognised the look his father gave him as he stood up as a warning to behave. He'd seen _that_ look often enough before that it was easy enough to recognise it. He attempted to look like a good polite little boy as his father turned to go and the lady led him on to the next room. This test was going to be _easy_.

* * *

-

The test was awful and he hated it.

He'd expected to be taken on to an exam hall or something - somewhere he could sit down and _think._ Instead the woman - Meredith had learnt her name was Sandy, which just gave him a focus to throw his intense dislike at - had explained that he'd undergo a series of tests designed to show where each child did best and where they could improve. Apparently _that_ was why this building was so big. They moved you on from one to the next so that they could deal with more than one kid at a time.

The first test had been a physical.

It didn't even make _sense_ at all, at least not in Meredith's mind. Why did you need to be able to run forever to prove you were smart? Getting fit was something there would always be time to do later - he didn't have _time_ for things like that. He didn't need to be super-fast, or strong enough to carry things - those kind of jobs were for people who didn't have brains quick enough that they should be using those instead.

But these people didn't seem to understand that, and by the time they let him finish on the awful machines - a running machine, and a lifting machine, and even a _dancing_ machine, and what use was being able to do _that_ to anybody? - his arms and legs were shaky, and his chest hurt from breathing too hard. He was really starting to regret not eating his breakfast that morning too. Did they stop the test if you passed out due to low blood sugar?

Then there _was_ an exam, and that felt better. That almost helped him get his brain in the right place again, and he whizzed through the paper quite happily, only pausing to correct a few of the questions. Sandy seemed quite surprised when he set his pen down and said he was done, but he was used to adults looking surprised about things like that.

But then she'd taken him to play a video game. Meredith had assumed that it was because he'd finished the exam early - that maybe they dumped kids here while they waited for the next room to be free - but no, apparently, part of the test was playing some stupid game where you piloted a little spaceship between stars and shot at aliens while trying not to get shot. He'd approached it with the irritability he did any pointless task, and felt even more cross about it when he managed to get himself killed five times within ten minutes. How did this test prove anything other than how long you'd spent in your room mucking about at playing games rather than doing proper work? The whole thing seemed designed to punish the _really_ smart kids who tried to spend their day to day life doing more worthwhile things.

The oral test was better. A computerised voice threw questions at him, and just as quickly he threw the answers back. Mathematics, spelling, general knowledge, with only a few seconds for each answer, questions slowly increasing in difficulty. That one was actually _fun_ - he could feel his brain working, reaching quickly for the answer before the next question came at him. He'd been disappointed when it finally stopped, and Sandy told him it was time to go on again.

Especially considering what she led him on to seemed ridiculous. The room he went to next was empty except for a table and some kind of weird gadget resting on top of it. Sandy had told him he had five minutes to get it working, and then she'd left.

And that seemed like it _was_a good test - one that did actually use your brain - and Meredith had been all kinds of eager to get on with it, picking up the gadget and trying to work it out. Except... he couldn't seem to do it. The device had no on switch that he could find at all. There was somewhere it seemed you should rest your fingers, but doing so didn't seem to get it working. There was no way to take it apart, no crack that showed how it could be disassembled and repaired, and it just didn't seem _possible._

Not that it had stopped Meredith trying. He'd continued turning it, looking for a moving part, _anything_ that gave a clue as to how the thing was meant to function. But there was nothing, and then a buzzer went, and Sandy stepped back in. He'd failed the test.

It just wasn't acceptable. Meredith Rodney McKay did not fail tests. He passed them, with the sort of high scores that made adults look at him funny. But here he was, and the gadget wasn't working, and his time was up, and the shock of _failing_ something was one that froze him to the spot for a moment, still clutching at the gadget.

"Time's up, sweetie. The sympathetic look Sandy gave him made Meredith want to kick her in the ankle. "Got to move you on to the interview now. We're on a tight schedule."

Meredith's mouth worked for a moment, before he silently placed the gadget back onto the table. He was _not _going to beg this stupid woman for more time. Even if he was sure that if there was any way to make it work, he could have found it in another minute. If, that was, it wasn't _broken_ or something and the testers didn't know.

"You know," Sandy said, sounding as though she were trying to be nice about it, "no-one expects you kids to be good at _everything_."

Maybe she meant it to be comforting, but it only earned her a glare from Meredith as he shoved his hands back into his pockets before she could try to grab one again. The very last thing he wanted was some patronising woman's _pity._

It set him in a bad mood for the interview, which turned out to be yet another smiling woman asking him questions. What would you do in this situation, what would you do in that, what if you only had this equipment, what if that failed? Most of it seemed obvious to him, and he wasn't in the mood to try and hide it, his tone indicating that you would have to be truly brainless to miss that. The question of 'what if that didn't work?' was met with a stare as withering as a seven year old could muster, and the reply that _obviously_ it would. It seemed to startle her for a moment, and Meredith watched as she scribbled something down, shielding it when she realised he was trying to read it upside-down.

After that there were other questions. What do you want to be when you grow up, Meredith? Well, a scientist obviously, and there was no 'want' about it. He_ would _be a scientist, and one of the best at that. Even at seven, Meredith had decided that. Tell me about school - she frowned a little when he said he was home-schooled, though he couldn't imagine how _that_ would disappoint their expectations. It wasn't as though schools were some great bastion of excellence. Tell me about your family, your hobbies, your pets, and on and _on_ until he was thoroughly sick of talking about Jeannie and Schrodinger and started to fidget on his seat impatiently. He was tired, he was hungry now, and he wanted to go _home._

And just like that, it _was_ over and he was sent to sit down while he waited for his father to come to pick him up. No carefully orchestrated murder for over-intelligent children, just the creeping miserable feeling that maybe this wasn't just the first test ever that he hadn't done brilliantly on, but might be one he'd actually done _badly_ on. And if so, what did that mean? He was still a genius, clearly, it wasn't his fault they tested the wrong things.

He was still smart. It was just that the test was stupid.

* * *

-

Of course, Meredith was far from the only child being tested that day. World-wide, millions of seven year olds were doing the same test even as he was, the results compiled and sent back to be checked and verified. With such a detailed analysis of each child's abilities, the rest of their lives could be planned out for them. The sharper-minded could be fast-tracked, no matter where they came from, offered a chance to make something of that childish potential. Slower children, those showing no particular talent, could be allowed to become ordinary, condemned to being average or worse forever. Such a lot that could depend on a seven year old's test results!

The very best of those tested would be referred on for further action, accounts requested from teachers and parents as to the child's everyday process. You could not completely rely, after all, on the performance of a seven year old on any one day. The same child that shone on one day might provide a miserably slow performance the rest of the year, or vice versa. Still, not many even got that far, perhaps one or two in each test centre per year.

And then the very best of _those_, the outliers of what were already the outlying figures, ended up with their results sent here. Whether they were from Africa, Belgium, or China, their names were made known to the same commitee, sifted through with all the other outstanding children of the last three months as they debated which names would be placed on the vital final list.

"John Sheppard." Another name made it to the top of the pile, the paperwork passed around the group of three people. "American boy. What do we think of this one?"

Three faces furrowed in concentration for a few moments. "Good response to the Ancient artifact," Kinsey noted. "We're running short on kids who can do that. How are his test scores doing?"

Papers rustled for a moment. "High in maths, high in spatial recognition, game-playing showed exceptionally quick responses. Good coordination too," Frasier, the one female of the trio, offered. "Interview shows good leadership potential. Kid wants to fly when he grows up apparently."

Kinsey glanced over her shoulder. "Yes, I like how he covered his paper margins with sketches of planes there too," he said drily. "Not exactly subtle."

Maybourne, the third member of the panel, laughed out loud at that. "Seven year olds aren't known for their subtlety," he pointed at. "Let the kid in. He'll get plenty of chances to fly where they're going."

Frasier was hesitating still. "School report checks out - teachers say he's a smart kid, with buckets of charisma. Sometimes doesn't think about consequences to his actions, but that's part of being seven. Might be issues with the father's report though."

"Hn." Kinsey frowned, still reading over her shoulder. "_Incapable of obeying orders._ That's some... unusual phrasing for talking about a boy of that age. Military background?"

"Colonel," Frasier confirmed, glancing over the additional notes. "High enough to have some idea where the kids would be going to."

Kinsey raised his eyebrows. "Think he's trying to protect his son from having to take part?"

Frasier shook her head, reading on. "Says here there's a brother, David, couple of years older. Father apparently threw a complete fit when _he _didn't get selected, tried to insist the boy must have been ill that day and get a retest. Going in completely the other direction with this one."

"Does it really matter?" Maybourne chipped in, clearly bored. "He scores well on almost everything else. Do we really have enough kids who can handle Ancient artifacts to reject one just because Daddy says he doesn't salute smart enough?"

"Wilful defiance is a slightly different matter," Kinsey said, sounding slightly heated.

"Maybourne's right," Frasier said, giving another quick shake of her head. "Wilful defiance is just business as usual at that age. Take him on. I'm sure they've the resources to cope with him."

With two against one, and a pile left to do, Kinsey hesitated a moment and then shrugged. "Fine. Next child?"

It was Maybourne who took the top paper this time. "Ha. Odd one. Radek Zelenka. Scores not so far above average."

Kinsey made an impatient movement. "Then how'd he make this list? Skip him. We haven't got time for duds."

"Because, according to our monitoring systems, every time he got a math or science question wrong, he was lying." Maybourne laid the papers in front of them. "Every single time."

"He tried to flunk the test?" That was surprising, and Frasier reached to look through the documentation.

"Or at least fly under the radar," Maybourne confirmed. "There's a damn careful calculation of what 'average' should look like there."

"But _why-_" Frasier started, before she took the time to actually read the papers in her hand. "Ah. Czechoslavakian?"

"Not a country known for always treating the very intelligent well," Kinsey acknowledged. "Boy's bright enough to know it's not always the best idea to admit you're bright. That's something."

"And in unusual circumstances," Frasier said, slowly. "Says here they've been living in a tent for the past three months after his brother managed to burn the house down. Imagine what he could do in _decent_ living circumstances."

Kinsey grimaced. "Burn the house down? We're not taking on a potential pyromaniac here, are we?"

"Accident with a candle. It's fine," Maybourne assured him. "Natural consequence of living without electric lighting."

"Fine. Add him to the list." There were too many to look at for long debates and discussion on each one. Notes were quickly checked, children just as quickly sorted, accepted or rejected with as much speed as possible.

Three more children were examined, and speedily rejected, clever enough to make it here but just not outstanding _enough_ to be selected here. Just as speedily a girl, Elizabeth Weir, was accepted, her test scores high, her competancy based questions higher. The three were moving into their stride.

"Carson Beckett?" Kinsey's turn to take one from the pile. "Another one who managed to set the artifact off, though apparently he panicked and dropped it as soon as it lit up."

Frasier reached to take the paper from him, and deliberately, Kinsey held it out of her reach, still reading. "Good science scores, though the monitoring systems read him as being nervous through just about everything. Interviewer liked him, but said there might be family issues."

Again, Frasier grabbed, and this time managed to snatch it from him. She glared at Kinsey a moment before starting to read. It didn't take long to find what he'd been hiding from her. "You didn't say he wanted to be a doctor!"

Kinsey scowled. "We've been through this. It might be your speciality, but this job needs fighters and strategists, not _doctors._ He'll be whatever we need him to be."

"And if the job fails, who exactly do you think is going to stick these kids back together?" Frasier demanded. "A doctor is _exactly_ what they'll need. And I don't see family issues. The parent report checks out."

"Check the interview," Kinsey advised. "Boy's worried his mother will be upset if he goes away."

"Again, that's hardly a failing in a _seven year old!"_ Frasier retorted, and glanced again at the third panel member for support. "Maybourne?"

Maybourne considered a moment, and then waved a hand. "They're hardly going to run short of supplies up there because one extra kid is there to train as a doctor," he said dismissively. "And his mother will cope. All the other mothers do somehow. Next?"

Another five children were sped through, sorted into passing or not in bare seconds. The swiftness of the trio's work was not so much a hallmark to their efficiency as it was to their eagerness to be done having to work with each other until the next meeting.

Still, there was always some child that could get them arguing again.

"Acastus Kolya," Maybourne announced, snagging the top file again. "One of our off-worlders. Bright kid, interview indicates good leadership abilities, good score in the spatial thinking test. We pass him?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Frasier took the papers hastily, before Maybourne could add them to the 'accepted' pile. "Let me just take a look."

Maybourne grimaced, but let her have them. "We were just getting a good speed up," he complained.

"Yes, but we _are_ meant to be checking these _before_ we approve them," Frasier reminded him curtly. "That would be why they stuck humans on this rather than machines if you'll remember?" She flicked through, glancing at the interview results. "I see the interviewer liked his leadership abilities but said he might be a little ruthless?"

"I'm not seeing a problem with that," Kinsey said. "A little ruthlessness can be a good thing. It's too little of it that causes problems."

"Mm, but his teacher indicated issues too." Frasier chewed on her bottom lip a moment, reading. "A few fights, signs he might be heading a little gang of bullies. Sounds like a tendency to violence."

"What exactly is your problem here, Frasier?" And now Kinsey stared at her in frank disbelief. "Might I remind you what we're gathering these kids for? It's not a cute kid contest. They're meant to be killing wraith, not overcoming them with cuteness and giving them a big hug. If he's got the hang of violence... good. It might make the learning curve easier when we put a gun in his cute little hands."

Still, Frasier looked worried. "The reports indicate he could be dangerous," she protested.

"Kinsey's right." And it wasn't often anyone heard those words coming from Maybourne. "It'll serve him well where they're gonna be. Besides, what kinda violence are we talking about here? Kids are_ seven!"_

As quickly as that it was decided, papers added to the pile of acceptances before Kinsey took the next.

"Rodney McKay?" He glanced over it, then laughed sharply. "Ha. Kid tried _correcting_ the science paper. Finished it then wrote a little letter of complaint on the back about how the questions are badly phrased."

"Sounds smart. Pass him?" Maybourne said hopefully.

"Sounds obnoxious," Frasier corrected dryly. "Interview results?"

"Not so good," Kinsey admitted, laying the papers out now. "Came up with ways to fix the scenarios, but got quite angry when asked how he'd react if that didn't work. Kid doesn't like being wrong."

"I know some other people like that," Frasier murmured under her breath, before jabbing a pen at a section of the write-up. "Home-schooled? That could explain it."

"Might have a bad case of being Mummy's special little darling," Kinsey admitted, musing over it. "Still. He _is_ undoubtably a smart kid."

"Just has the personality and ego to match," Frasier said. "Think he'll work with the other kids?"

It was Maybourne's turn to laugh. "The regimen we're putting them through, I doubt he'll have a choice," he said genially. "Pass him. The specialness will get knocked out of him fast enough."

He swept the papers to one side before they could object, then looked somewhat woefully at the large pile remaining. "I don't suppose either of you are gonna agree to tossing a coin on the rest?"

* * *

-

Meredith was sulking when the man from the military came.

There had been an argument. It had started with his father reminding him to turn off the lights when he left the room to save electricity. He had protested that he _did_ and there was no reason to blame him, why did people around here always blame him? His father asked who else it would be if _not_ him, and so naturally Meredith had turned to glare at the blonde-haired little demon playing with her bricks in the corner and blamed Jeannie.

That was when his father had gotten annoyed, told him that Jeannie was only two and sent him to his room. Apparently it was meant to teach him responsibility for his actions. In reality, Meredith decided, it was teaching him that life was _very_ unfair. It wasn't _his_ fault Jeannie was two. He just hadn't figured out how Jeannie was switching the lights _on_ yet, that was all. Maybe she was using a chair... or possibly some kind of remote control device. He really needed to check her toybox.

He was brooding on this when he heard the car pull up in the drive, and not even a really good sulk could quite halt the urge to go peer out the window to see who it was. Meredith stared, nose pressed to the window, as a man in uniform got out and knocked at their front door.

A few seconds later, he heard his father's voice calling up the stairs. "Meredith! Could you come down here, please?"

_Now_ what? It wasn't as though he'd done anything particularly bad recently. Anything bad that the military would be interested in anyway - despite what his mother said, he was certain no-one ever got arrested for not finishing their broccoli. There had been that incident when he'd shorted out the power, but his parents had said that the power company had been very understanding when they'd explained it was an accident, although if he cut the town off again he was probably going to be in big trouble.

"Meredith!"

Reluctantly he slunk to the top of the stairs, peering down from the top step to try and gauge in advance just how annoyed his parents were. There were levels to these things he'd learnt, from 'we caught you reading under the covers' annoyed right up to 'you nearly blew the street up' annoyed.

They seemed to be smiling. That was a good sign. So was the army man. _Also_ a good sign.

"Meredith, hurry up and get down here," his father called again, turning to look up at him, and no, that wasn't an angry look at all. "This gentleman wants to talk to you." And then the smile turned into a grin, one that nearly split his face in half. "You passed the test, son. Well done. We're proud of you."

The test? Oh!_ The Test!_ That was enough to put a bit more speed into Meredith's movements, and he hurled himself down the stairs, managing not to fall and break his neck by luck alone.

"I passed? You mean I get to go to the school? With the special teaching, and the career opportunities, and- and..." The words tumbled over each other, excitement turning him incoherent.

"Be polite, Meredith," his mother chided gently. "This is Colonel Jacob Carter. Say hello. _Nicely."_

"Hi!" And doing properly polite was hard when you had too many questions to get out, and not enough time to ask them in. "But do I get to go to the school?" he asked again, and then looked again at the man's uniform. Huh. Not army then. Not Canadian either. "And does that mean that the school's in the US then, if you're US Airforce? And-"

The questions dried up into a squeak as he met the man's eyes. To a seven year old, Jacob Carter was awfully tall, and just a little scary when you came to think about it. He edged a touch closer to his father.

"He's curious," his mother said apologetically.

"It's understandable." The man smiled at him reassuringly. "It's good to meet you, Meredith. Yes, you'll be coming to the school with me - if you decide you want to go. And no, the school's not in my country. I'm just one of the people who works on the project."

Why_ wouldn't_ he decide to go, given the choice? And why call it a project? A project sounded like more than a school, and- Meredith opened his mouth, ready to start pouring out questions again, but the colonel held up a warning finger.

"Is there a private room I could speak to Meredith in?" he asked Meredith's mother politely. "Just to ensure he can ask all his questions before we leave."

"Well - there's the lounge." She seemed a little flustered. "You mean, leave with him _today?"_

"If he wishes to come, there's a flight he needs to be on this evening." The Colonel smiled at her charmingly, but even Meredith could see that startled her. "Perhaps you could start getting his things together while we have a chat?"

The lounge was only private to a given value of 'private'. The doors shut, certainly, and they were alone in there, but while Meredith's parents made themselves scarce, presumably upstairs packing, Jeannie peered through the window in the glass door, making faces at Meredith.

He tried not to pay attention.

"Now, Meredith - is that really what you prefer to be called?" the Colonel asked, making himself comfortable in one of the chairs.

"It's my name," he protested, sounding defensive, even to himself.

"Hey, it's your choice, kid." The man shrugged. "If I were you though, when you arrive I'd consider going by your middle name. Just a piece of friendly advice. Up to you if you take it."

When he arrived... "Where are we going?" he asked, excitement at the thought overwhelming the need to defend his name. "If it's not in the US, where is it? I mean, unless you seperate us by country it's probably not going to be Canada, and-"

"Do you ever give people chance to actually answer the questions you ask?" the Colonel asked mildly, shutting him up. "In any case, I can't tell you. You'll know when you get there. But I promise you, you won't be disappointed."

"If I'm going anyway, why can't you tell me?" Meredith protested, too impatient for waiting.

"For the same reason you won't be able to visit when you're there." And now the man's voice gentled, as though ready for that statement to be a shock. "It's classified. We can't risk you telling anyone else before you go. When you put so many smart children in one place, there's too much of a risk some other party might decide to use them for their own purposes if they knew where they were. For your own sakes, we keep that secret."

It made sense, and Meredith had known already about the no-visiting rule. Still, he looked again at the window where Jeannie was still peering through and - ugh! - had now begun diligently_ licking_ the glass. "No visiting _ever?_

"Not for a long time," the Colonel said apologetically. "When you're old enough that we can make an argument that you understand the confidentiality of the documents we'll ask you to sign first, it might be a different matter, but until then... no. I'm afraid courts don't take intelligence into account when you're arguing seven year olds and legal agreements."

Jeannie's small pink tongue seemed to be cleaning the glass energetically. Meredith shuddered, thinking of the germs on the glass, and the germs on her _tongue._ The door would need to be disinfected. He wondered if they made disinfectant for tongues.

He wondered who would prevent Jeannie falling prey to Darwin if he wasn't about. It wasn't as though she had any common sense of her own.

"...so you will be able to keep in touch by letters," the Colonel said, apparently finishing up something Meredith hadn't been listening to. "Although we will be monitoring them, of course."

_Of course_. Two little words that apparently made it okay that he wouldn't be able to communicate privately with his family until he was ever so much older. But then there was the school. Meredith swallowed, struggling to resist the pull of that. Somewhere people could keep up with him, or were at least clever enough to _realise _when he'd done something particularly brilliant. It was a hard choice to make. "Would you send your kids?" he asked suddenly, peering up at the colonel.

"Would I?" The man smiled, though it seemed to Meredith he did so a little sadly. "My daughter's a few months older than you. She's already there."


	3. John 7

**John**

It had been a very busy day. Good- John couldn't argue that it had been a _bad_ day when it came down to it - but busy.

Having a colonel turn up at the house hadn't seemed too exciting in itself. That happened often enough - they came, chatted to his father and went away again. He and David just stayed out the way until they'd got whatever it was over with. As John tried to stay out of his father's way generally just as a matter of course that wasn't too much of a hardship.

This time though, when he'd opened the door and offered to go fetch his father, the guy had looked him up and down as though weighing him up, then asked his name. He'd answered, surprised, then his father had turned up and... actually things had got a bit chaotic after that, but there'd been a hell of an argument. The colonel had said he'd come to pick him up for school, and his father had said like hell he was, and that he'd already written to tell them no, and the colonel had told John to go pack anyway, and then they'd started bellowing at each other.

John had been awed enough to just stare for a while. There weren't many people who didn't just decide it was easier to do as his father said, but this guy gave as good as he got, and they'd gone at each other like a pair of raging storms, all thunder and noise. It took a few minutes of watching before he realised that maybe, just maybe, if his father actually _lost_ this argument it would be a good idea to be ready to go, and he'd scampered off upstairs to pack as he'd been told.

Packing wasn't easy. He wasn't sure how adults managed it. In the end he'd only really got everything in by wedging his skateboard at the bottom of the bag, with everything else on top of it fitted around the wheels. Except the comic books of course. They'd gone in an outside pocket. He didn't want them to get damaged.

It still didn't look quite right - the bag had bulged oddly at the sides where the skateboard pressed against it - but John had managed to fasten it and drag it downstairs on his own, feeling quite triumphant as he dropped it in the hallway.

Then there had been his brother, and John had felt _bad_ about that. He'd known how badly David had wanted to pass his test - and how badly their father had wanted him to pass - but no colonel had come to the house to get_ him_ however long he'd waited. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs when John came down, fists clenched at his sides, looking as though he didn't trust quite trust himself to speak.

John hadn't known what to say. "At least you won't have to listen to so many arguments if I'm not around," he'd offered awkwardly after a minute or two, and David had nodded tightly, just staring at him and his bag. John had felt as though he should hug him or something, but David wasn't really the hugging type. Nor was their father for that matter. They were generally a hugfree kind of family.

They had still been stood there, looking at each other when the shouting stopped, neither of them able to find the right words to say to each other. Talking was _hard,_ and in the end John had pretended that there was a problem with the zip on his bag. It had provided a good excuse to fiddle with it rather than trying to think of something to say to his brother.

Then the colonel had marched through, picked up the bag as though it weighed nothing at all, set a hand on John's shoulder and started to push him towards the door. Apparently that was the sign that he'd won the argument, and John was going. John had squirmed a little, just enough to glance back and see his father, who looked more pissed off than John had ever seen him, and David, who seemed as though he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, and then they were at the car and it seemed it was time to go.

He'd offered a 'Bye' before he got in, but he wasn't sure that either of them heard it, and the colonel looked too impatient to hang round and repeat it.

Okay, so maybe looking back it wasn't the _best_ going away he could have had, but at least he'd gotten to go.

Besides, after that there'd been the flight, and that had been awesome. He'd thought when the colonel - who turned out to be called Colonel Sumner, John had discovered on the way there, and a bit too gruff to ask many questions of - had said they were going to the airport that he was to be bundled onto a plane full of people to wherever he was going. Instead he'd been handed into the custody of a helicopter pilot who wasn't too busy to answer questions shouted over the noise of the propellers, and who had seemed pretty impressed that John hadn't thrown up.

It was maybe the single coolest experience of John's entire life. He was _so_ going to fly one of these when he grew up.

They didn't land at the regular airport either. John thought it was maybe a military base, though he wasn't sure which, or where they were by then. He'd stuck close to the side of the man he'd already started thinking of possessively as _his _pilot. It wasn't that he didn't want to look round, but he'd still been hoping that he might get another ride if he behaved himself.

That didn't happen. Instead there'd been a whole load of_ other_ helicopters - small planes too - carrying a variety of kids. Some of them looked as though they _had_ thrown up on the flight there. It had been hard not to feel a little smug about that.

They'd been bundled into a bus - all thirty or so of them - before they really had time to take in much of their surroundings. John had been unable to resist twisting around in his seat, peering around at the kids who would assumedly be his fellow classmates, trying to work out if he was going to like them or not. Other than age, they'd seemed to have very little in common. There were girls and boys, big kids and small kids, kids with funny accents, kids with glasses... One boy had complained loudly that he hadn't been fed on the way there, and he'd go hypoglycaemic if he wasn't fed soon. Another boy, this one with a soft scottish accent, had offered him some sandwiches, John suspected mostly to shut the complaining boy up. Apparently his mum had packed them.

The sandwiches hadn't looked all that good to John. He supposed Scotland was far enough away to be bad for sandwiches - they looked kinda squashed and curled up at the edges. Still, the kid who had been complaining had eaten them right up as though he were starving to death.

He might as well just have waited, as far as John was concerned. They were only driving for half an hour or so before they'd been unloaded again. He'd thought at first it was for a bathroom break, but no, it seemed they were there. Wherever "there" was going to turn out to be anyway.

No-one had given them a chance to stop. That had started to annoy John by that point, not so much because he was tired as that he wanted just five minutes to stop and look around and work out where they _were._ It looked like another base, but way further into the interesting stuff than John was usually allowed. This looked like the sort of place where stuff actually _happened._

It was that need to stare around the place some that meant he'd ended up near the back of the crowd of kids, near the complaining kid, who was _still_ complaining, something about everyone going too fast, and the scottish kid who was looking a bit red around the eyes. John had figured that the flight _he'd_ had to make to get there had probably been long enough to be exhausting.

They had been far enough back, and John had been distracted enough, that he didn't notice at first that everyone had stopped. Then suddenly everyone had been staring, all of them looking at something in front of them. A wiry kid in glasses muttered something in a language John didn't understand. It had sounded suspiciously as though it ought to be a swearword.

John had tried for a moment to find a gap to look through the others, and then finally looked up, hoping to at least catch a glimpse over everyone else's heads. He managed more than that. A huge blue _thing_ was towering over them, held in what looked to be a metal frame. It had shifted and shimmered as they stared at it, glittering in, what was to John's mind at least, an incredibly tempting fashion. His fingers had just about _itched_ with the urge to reach out and touch it.

Next to him, the scottish boy had seemed to be knocked speechless. The other boy had been snapping his fingers frantically, as though he knew exactly what this was but it had just slipped his mind and in a minute he would remember it. Somehow, John had doubted that was the case.

"All right," the man at the front - his insignia said he was a major, John remembered that - had said. "Who's first?"

"We are not going through that thing," the scottish boy had breathed, sounding utterly horrified by the thought.

The other had looked equally nervous. "We should probably let someone else go first. Just in case they're experimenting on us or something. Because seriously, who would know if they were? You stuff a load of kids in a machine, they get fried up, no-one's going to know any difference and-"

John had stopped listening around that point, because seriously, this was maybe the most awesome thing he had ever seen and there was no way he was going to wait at the back for a chance to go through it. Nor, he'd decided suddenly, grabbing their arms, were these other two. Else they'd be _really _sorry they hesitated once they got over being scared, and what if you only ever got a chance to be first at something like this once in your life?

"We will!" The other two had been sputtering objections, so John had dragged them forward with him. It was easier than _arguing_ with them about whether it would hurt and whether it would kill them. Sometimes you just had to get people to_ try _something until they stopped being scared.

The major had looked a little startled as they came barging through, but stepped aside, not blocking their path. That was as good as permission to John - if the guy didn't want them to go ahead, he would have stopped them, right? So, he held on to the others, took a deep breath, and stepped into the blue.

It was a little like riding a rollercoaster without having the rollercoaster there. There was intense _blue_, and tubes, and they were moving, somehow, John knew that even when there was no way to tell where or how fast. Well, he was certain at least that it was fast.

And then they were out the other side, and somewhere else entirely, and if John wasn't quite sure how they'd got there that only made it more exciting. He twisted, and behind them another blue window glowed and glimmered behind them. Somehow, it had taken them from there to here.

_"Awesome!" _If he didn't know how it worked that was fine, because there were lots of things with workings he didn't understand, and that never made them any less fascinating. Really, John figured, it was just part of being seven. "Do you think they'd let us have another go?"

"I should hope _not!"_ The scottish boy had his eyes screwed shut when John turned to look at him, his whole body tensed up.

"Aw, come on," John protested. "It didn't hurt at all."

"You didn't know it wasn't going to!" the other boy butted in, jerking himself away. "What - you just saw something you didn't understand at all, something that shouldn't even _exist, _and thought, oh, hey, I should throw myself through that?"

John considered the question for a moment. "Yes?"

The boy glared at him. "How is it that you've made it this far without Darwin catching up with you?"

"But, look,_ look!" _John had insisted, because they were wasting time here being pissed off at him when they could be considering so many more interesting things. Like where they were for example. "It took us here. I think we teleported?"

"That's impossible." And he'd sounded so heated about it that John had to struggle not to smile, because it wasn't_ his_ fault that this place didn't fit the other kid's idea of reality.

He'd gestured around them instead, figuring that would make his point better than any argument. "Well, it got us here, didn't it?"

"Yes, but not through teleportation, that's impossible and - oh my god." Apparently it took _that_ long for the kid's eyes to catch up with him. "Where_ are_ we?"

The note of shock in his voice had apparently been enough to get the Scottish kid to open his eyes, though he did so cautiously, as though expecting to find himself staring down the mouth of a monster. John had watched with some satisfaction as the boy first peeked, and then opened his eyes wide, turning around to see just how big the - room? chamber? - they'd ended up in really was. "That's _not _possible," he agreed, voice awed. "How did they do that?"

There were adults there too, watching their reactions, but John thought they mostly looked amused as the other kid bounded forward, shock apparently wearing off. It seemed that curiosity came _after_ shock for him, and right along with pretending-to-know-what the hell-was-going-on. "That thing must have had some way of changing space - effectively carrying us from one place to another without passing through all the places in between."

"Sure, teleportation, like I said." It had seemed simple enough to John. No need to waste time _analysing_ it when it had happened.

"Not teleportation," the kid had contradicted, scowling. "Teleportation basically disassembles your body then reassembles it. You don't physically have to travel any distance. You don't..." he had gestured at the... well, John was mentally calling it a portal for now, until someone gave him a better name. "You don't have to move_ into_ something." Seemingly without any kind of shyness or fear, he'd approached one of the adults - this one working at some kind of console near the portal. "Can I take a look at that?"

He might be abrasive, but John had to give him points for his cheek at least, as the man had been surprised enough to move back, even if he _did_ keep a careful eye on them. Couldn't blame him for that either. Seven year olds combined with what was no doubt priceless computer equipment, they were probably just lucky not to have been sent to sit down quietly in a corner until the others arrived.

"A shortcut then?" he'd suggested, as the three of them clustered around the console, heads close together as they stared at it.

It had earned him another scathing look, and really it was hard not to laugh because wow, that kid clearly didn't know just how _funny_ he looked all indignant like that. "Do you have to reduce _everything _down to a ridiculously simple explanation?"

"Sometimes it helps," he'd suggested. "Hey, what happens if you press that?"

The man behind them moved forward with a warning shout before he could actually do much more than brush his fingers over the the console, but John was distracted anyway as the blue portal glowed and shimmered all the more brightly for a minute.

"What did you _do?_" the other boy had demanded. "You can't just go jabbing at things without knowing what they do! Did no-one teach you basic safety principles?"

"I do not think you ought to have done that," the scottish boy agreed, looking worried. "Did you break it?"

"I hardly touched _anything_," John had started to protest, but yelps and startled curses from the portal gave the excuse for him before he could make one up.

The other kids had started to arrive. And they seemed to be having problems.

And that was how the busy day had ended with the three of them being marched off to some official's office for a lecture on Not Accidentally Turning Shields On When People Were About To Come Through. John figured that they had probably set some kind of record for time taken between arriving and getting into trouble for the first time, though it had almost been worth it to see the expressions on the other kids' faces when they had arrived only to discover they were stuck in some kind of invisible giant goldfish bowl.

It hadn't been much of a lecture anyway. The Woolsey guy they had on hand, apparently just to tell naughty kids how they were letting down the mission, themselves, and the entire school, needed to take lessons from John's father in how to bellow. He'd come away with no guilt whatsoever, a needling sense of annoyance that left him wanting to misbehave again as soon as possible just to piss the guy off, and a burning sense of curiosity about what this "mission" might be. No-one had even _mentioned_ one until now.

He'd gotten to find out the other kids' names too, which seemed a good start to things. The complaining kid, who'd tried to argue that they wouldn't ever get to learn anything if they weren't allowed to look at stuff, at least until John kicked him in the ankle to shut him up, was called Rodney. The other one was Carson. John felt a little bad about him getting yelled at too, as he hadn't actually done anything other than follow them over. Still, that he didn't protest as much in front of the guy telling him off probably meant he was an okay guy.

They were given an escort back to the others. Apparently people didn't trust that they wouldn't "get lost" on their own. It did interfere somewhat with John's longing to just go explore the place and find out where they _were_ - and Rodney seemed to be suffering from similar urges, judging from his wistful glances down corridors - but hey, there would be time for that later. At least, he _hoped _there would be, unless Woolsey saw to them being babysat every minute for the rest of their lives. Seven was way too old for stuff like that!

It turned out that the others had already been taken to the room that was going to be their dormitory. Being last apparently meant they got stuck with the beds closest to the door - a consequence which, so the escort informed them, would make it easier to "keep an eye on them".

As far as John was concerned it would make it easier to slip out and look around when they wanted but hey, however they wanted to see it.

Their cases had already been dumped on the beds for them, most of the other kids halfway through unpacking theirs already. It seemed only sensible to join in. After all, the sooner that was done, the sooner they could get on with the fun stuff.

Of course, they could hardly manage to do it without commentary.

"Do you have any food?" John was not surprised to see that the hopeful question came from Rodney. He peered over John's shoulder as though hoping to see a stashed banquet in his bag. "They say we don't get fed until we've unpacked."

John swatted him away. "I thought you already ate Carson's sandwiches?"

"He did." Confirmation came from Carson, his bed buried under what seemed to be a mountain of underwear and vests. "And it's no good looking at me, Rodney, 'cause I haven't got any more."

Rodney looked sulky, his mouth turning down at the corners. "I have a very high metabolism."

"So we gathered." John set his hands on the other boy's shoulders, giving him a little scoot in the direction of his own bed. "And if you go unpack, we'll get to eat sooner."

It didn't seem to distract him. He squirmed away, looking again at the contents of John's bag. "What were you going to do with a _skateboard_ here?"

"Well, uh." It did seem like a bad packing choice now John came to review it. He stared at it for a moment, lips pressed together. "I didn't know we were going to end up _here,_ did I?" Wherever _here_ was anyway. It didn't seem to have a whole lot of green spaces, or good skateboarding ramps from what John had seen so far. Maybe he could find an empty corridor... "I'm sure it'll come in handy."

"Uh-huh." Rodney didn't look convinced. He prodded gingerly at the crumpled clothing John had stuffed around the wheels. "Did you actually pack _any_ underwear?"

"Uh..." Maybe there had been a_ few_ bad packing choices when he came to look at it. John cast around desperately for an answer. "I'll borrow some of Carson's? He's got enough!"

"It's not my fault!" The agonised protest came from behind Carson's ever growing wall of clothing. "It was my mum! She thought I might run out!"

"Maybe in a year or so." Much to John's relief Rodney wandered over to investigate, apparently distracted. "Though you might have enough vests to last for longer than that. And woolly jumpers."

"She thought I might get a wee bit cold," Carson said defensively. "She worries a lot, my mum."

"And-"

"Leave it alone!" There was a note in that as Carson pulled his bag out of Rodney's reach that made John look up from his own unpacking again. There was a difference between mild embarrassment and really-not-wanting-anyone-to-see.

"Leave it alone, Rodney!" he called sharply, not wanting to cross the line between those two things - not when Carson had been so good about that whole getting into trouble thing.

"But..."

"I said, leave it." He didn't say it angrily, but firmly, ready to go over and physically pull Rodney away if he had to. He suspected that the other boy wasn't being mean so much as actually not knowing when to stop.

Much to his surprise though, and Carson's seeming relief, Rodney did as he was told, finally returning to his own bag.

"They said we will be given a uniform." The strongly-accented voice from a couple of beds away made John look up again, guiltily startled out of his attempt to "unpack" by jamming everything into a drawer.

"They did?"

The one who had spoken - John vaguely remembered him now as the one who had cursed in some foreign language - nodded. "So, you will not need the underwear," he offered, gesturing to John's crumpled handful of clothing as though to make himself more understandable. He spoke carefully, enunciating each syllable as though having to remember how the words translated to sounds. "They told us before you came in."

"Oh." Well, that was one relief - John wasn't sure _any_ of the clothes he'd packed would count as wearable any more. He seemed to have missed something vital while putting them in, like how to fold them. "That's good, I guess." Though Heaven only knew what Carson would do if issued with yet more underwear.

The other boy smiled at him sympathetically. "I did not bring much either," he offered, as though trying to make John feel better. "Not so much to bring."

"Yeah, well," John forced the drawer shut, almost trapping his thumb in the process. "I... just didn't know what we'd need." It might have been nice to have a mother like Carson's to pack him underwear and sandwiches, but why fuss for what he couldn't have? And he'd remembered his skateboard at least. He eyed the other boy with friendly curiosity for a minute, weighing him up. Small, wiry, looked a little unsettled, but that could just be the effect of the glasses. "I'm John."

"Radek," the other boy offered, smiling politely, but his gaze was focused somewhere behind John. "He seems very..." He struggled for a minute to find the correct word, and John felt bad for him. It had to be a hell of a way to find out you'd have to brush up on your english skills. "Anxious?"

John turned to look. Rodney seemed to be unpacking in his own special way, laying things out in an order which, every now and then, would be changed with a huff of annoyance, as though the clothes were deliberately defying him. John wondered how he'd react when told he wouldn't need them anyway due to the uniform.

"He's just... he's Rodney," he said after a minute. "You get used to him." Because after an afternoon with him, it seemed he had already gotten used to him somewhat, strange prickles and glares and all.

"Yes." Radek continued to regard Rodney oddly for a moment before breaking into a quick smile. "I think maybe... it will be okay here?"

"Yeah," John agreed, already certain of that as he kicked his skateboard under the bed. "Yeah. It's gonna be okay here."

* * *

-

He had hoped that someone might explain over dinner where they were, and what this place _was,_ come to that. But the explanation didn't come, and John was soon distracted by Rodney's complaining that the portions weren't large enough, and asking with increasing anxiety whether they thought there was citrus in any of it. Apparenly he had an allergy or something - though as he hadn't died before the meal was out, John guessed that the adults knew that already.

There were more kids than John had quite known how to deal with at that first meal - girls _and _boys, all talking at once. He might've done as he usually did at the old school, the one at home, and vanished into his thoughts when people started to overwhelm him, but somehow when they started talking to him he found Rodney, Carson _and _Radek looking at him expectantly, as though he were meant to take control of the conversation or something. He wasn't quite sure how _that_ had happened, but it seemed hard to get out of.

The announcement that they were to go straight to bed after dinner garnered few complaints, and most of those seemed more automatic than anything. Apparently teleporting, or shortcutting, or whatever it had been was really tiring - or maybe it was just the helicopter rides. Either way, it wasn't long before every child was tucked into his or her own bed, the lights dimmed. John rolled over, shut his eyes, and in what seemed like seconds was asleep.

...and was awake again. The room was dark, and someone was standing over him, prodding him in the shoulder. He groaned, squinching his eyes shut more tightly and tried to move away. "G'way, David."

"It's not David." And that voice brought him out of sleep and reminded him where he was. It was too fretful just to ignore. He blinked, opening his eyes now and trying to focus.

"Rodney? What's up?" Homesickness, or maybe something really _wrong_... which could actually be kinda exciting if it was wrong in the right way.

"You're _breathing!_" Rodney said it as an accusation, his voice fierce and low as he prodded at John's shoulder again.

"Well, yeah. Means I'm alive." John swatted his hand away. "Quit that. You mean I was snoring?"

"No." Rodney shook his head. "Just... just _breathing_ and I can _hear_ you, and it means I have to synchronise _my_ breathing so that every time you breathe I breathe too, and that's really hard work, so I _can't sleep!_" His voice rose in evident distress at the complaint, and John winced. Keep that up, and half the room would be awake.

"Is there an emergency?" a thickly accented voice mumbled drowsily from a couple of beds, and he winced again. There was the first one.

"Nothing wrong," he whispered back. "Go back to sleep, Radek. Rodney, you're going to wake everyone up. What do you expect me to _do?_"

"I have to sleep! They'll probably test us or something again tomorrow, and I can't concentrate if I don't sleep first! I get tired, and when I'm tired I can't _focus_ and-" He sounded on the verge of tears, more overwrought by the second.

"What's happening?" More padding footsteps, and now Radek was standing beside the bed too, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. "Do we have to be up?"

John wondered why exactly getting a bed _here _with these guys had seemed a good idea. "Nothing's happening," he repeated wearily. "Rodney just can't sleep."

"Because you have abnormally loud breathing," Rodney insisted stubbornly, voice a little snuffly.

"Yes, yes, okay, I focus on breathing abnormally loud just to bug you," John said. "Is Carson awake too?" It seemed impossible that he could still be asleep with Rodney and Radek wandering around his bed.

"Carson is still asleep," Radek reported, glancing back in his direction.

"He must sleep like the dead," John said, envious for a moment before he saw through the dim light that Radek's eyes had widened in alarm and realised that maybe that phrase didn't translate so well to other languages. "No, no! Not actually dead. Just very deep."

"Ah." Radek relaxed again. "He has a large family," he offered. "He told me."

"Yeah, well, maybe if Rodney had too, maybe he wouldn't have crazy sleep issues," John said, tiredness making him grouchy. "Or if he'd ever shared a room ever. Breathing is _normal,_ Rodney."

"Not that loud," Rodney protested.

"Well, I don't know what you want me to do..."

"We could swap beds?" Radek suggested. "If you breathe..." he flapped a hand, struggling for words, "...strange and loud. You could sleep in my bed, and I will not breathe strangely at Rodney?"

"I do _not_ breathe strangely!" John protested, but Radek twitched at him, something that was almost a wink, and he surrendered. "Fine, fine, we swap beds," he said wearily, reluctantly struggling out of warm blankets. If it was the only way to get to sleep that night, maybe it was the way to go.

"Is that good, Rodney?" Radek asked, his voice patient.

"Uh," Rodney sounded a little thrown by the change of plan. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good." He climbed into John's bed, settling back down contentedly. "Then we all sleep now, yes?"

It seemed a solution. John trekked back towards Radek's vacated bed, sneaking a glance at Carson on the way. The other boy was indeed still sound asleep, and John found himself grinning in the dark. If a teddybear was the secret to how Carson made it peacefully through the night, John wasn't going to give it away, not as long as Carson was sensible enough to hide it away again in the morning.

Radek's bed had grown chilled without its occupant, and it took a few minutes to warm it back up. John was half-asleep when he heard the whisper again, now a couple of beds away.

"Radek! Radek..."

There was a sleepy murmur in the dark.

"I couldn't hear you breathing," Rodney's voice hissed urgently. "I thought you might have died."

John sighed, rolled over, and pulled the pillow over his head. It sounded like it was going to be a long night.


	4. Carson 7

**Carson**

Carson woke to a room that was mostly quiet, other than a few soft snores, and it was hard to mind those. They had a friendly familiar feeling to them, similar to the sleeping noises he was used to from sharing a room with his brothers. He liked it, the feeling he could lean out of bed and touch someone if he wanted, the feeling he wasn't alone in there.

It helped to alleviate the wave of homesickness that struck as soon as he remembered where he was, and that there was no going home, at least not for a lot of years. He was glad that no-one else seemed to be awake just yet then. It meant he could lie quietly, hugging George, his bear, tightly, and have a quiet sniffle, burying the noise in his pillow. His father had said to be a big boy, but it was hard when you were stuck _here_, and everyone else was back home.

He made himself stop as soon as he heard someone else stumble out of bed. Caught mid-sniff, he held his breath for a minute until he could let it out steadily, easing George carefully down under his blankets. Something told him that being caught clutching your teddybear did not, in any scenario, qualify you for being a big boy.

"Anyone awake?" It was a girl's voice, calling softly, and Carson cracked open his eyes to peer through the dim room for her.

"Here," he offered in a whisper, not wanting to wake the others. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, hoping she would think it was from drowsiness alone. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine." She seemed an agreeable sort of girl at least, keeping her voice down as she padded towards his bed. Her short dark hair was sticking up untidily, ruffled by sleep. "I just can't sleep. Do you think we're allowed to get up yet? I feel we oughta be doing something."

Carson considered it, eying the still-sleeping lumps in the other beds. The room was dimly lit, rather than properly dark still, and he too felt as though he should be properly awake now. That could just be from flying so far though. Who even knew what time it was meant to be anymore?

Still, he didn't_ feel _as though he wanted to sleep any more.

"No-one said we had to stay in bed?" he offered, sliding out to join her. The floor was slightly chilled against bare feet, and he curled his toes instinctively. "I'm Carson."

"I know. I saw you last night, at dinner." She smiled at him, and Carson wondered guiltily if he should admit that by the time dinner came the night before he'd been too tired to remember more than how to eat. She made it easy for him though, giving him her name. "I'm Elizabeth."

"It's good to meet you." He'd been brought up to be polite in any case. Tidy too. Automatically he turned to tug his blankets straight, quickly making his bed, and then blushed pink. George, still lost under the covers, stuck up, a clear lump in the middle.

There was no way Elizabeth couldn't have seen it, but she eyed it for a minute, glanced at Carson's expression, and then turned away. "I'm going to find the bathroom," she said decisively. "We might as well get dressed and ready before everyone else wakes up."

Privately blessing her for what could only be a deliberate opportunity to hide the bear again, Carson nodded. "I'll uh... I'll go in after you," he offered. "I'll just... I'll catch you up in a wee bit."

It turned out that there was not one, but several little shower-rooms, set up ready for them to use. Carson had just scrambled into his clothes - it felt a little warm to be wearing vest, tshirt and jumper, but he felt bad not when his mum had packed them _specially_ - when a loud alarm sounded, bringing drowsy murmurs and complaints from most of the room. He had only a moment to wonder, horrified, if it meant that they had done something _wrong,_ before lights started to flicker on. He relaxed. It was only time to get up.

The new friends made the night before seemed to be making a good effort at sleeping through the alarm. Carson looked at them worriedly as kids seemed to swarm around the beds, fighting over the showers and hastily doing up shirts all the wrong way. It seemed he was going to have to wake them.

He went to shake John first, and startled when the boy grabbed at his wrist, peering up at him with sleep-befuddled eyes. "Er.. time to get up?" he hazarded hopefully.

"How come you're so awake?" John complained, but sat up anyway. His hair, despite being shorter, seemed to stick up even more than Elizabeth's had. "Never mind. You didn't have Rodney checking if you were dead all night. That would help." Given that initial grumble, he seemed to resign himself to the inevitability of having to get up, leaving crumpled blankets behind him as he scrambled out of bed.

"Showers are that way," Carson offered, and John nodded, banging loudly and deliberately on the bottom of Radek and Rodney's beds as he passed them, drawing groans out of each of them.

"It's too early," Rodney protested, trying to burrow down under his blankets.

"It would _not _ be too early, I think, if you had not spent the night awake and bothering us!" Radek retorted, sounding more than a little cranky as he stumbled out of bed.

"You'll miss breakfast!" John called back over his shoulder, seeming to have already regained his good mood. That seemed to settle the matter. Rodney got up without further complaint.

By now though, a lengthy queue had formed for the shower. Even once the three had made it through washing, they had to dress - a process which involved Radek struggling to find clothing which wouldn't look too worn besides that of the other kids, and John trying to find something - anything! - which still looked even faintly wearable. Carson waited anxiously, horribly conscious that everyone else seemed to be nearly ready already.  
They were still only half-dressed when the door opened, and an older boy stepped into the room. Carson noted gratefully that he was dressed in what looked to be a dark green uniform - it seemed they _wouldn't _be doing this every morning then. He eyed the children for a minute, and then gave a whistle. "All right - line up! Ready to march to breakfast!"

It took a moment, but a line started to straggle together. Carson glanced back at the others hopefully, and sighed. Well, maybe he best wait.

"Carson!" Or not, as Elizabeth was beckoning to him urgently. "We're meant to be lining up!"

"I know, I just..." Rodney was struggling with a knot in his laces which seemed it would need a knife to undo, Radek was still buttoning his shirt, and John was trying desperately to smooth creases out of his shirt. "We'll be there in a minute. You can go on though."

She frowned at him though, and stepped towards them, taking in the crumpled bedsheets and halfdressed boys. "You're _all_ meant to be ready by now. Just... hurry it up a little, can't you?"

"Who put you in charge?" Maybe it was the wrong tone to take with John. He looked up, expression antogonistic for a moment, and then shrugged. "Fine. We're ready."

Elizabeth stared at him. "_He_ hasn't got his shirt done up, _he'_s in his socks, and _your_ clothes look like you slept in them," she said disbelievingly.

"Like I said," John said, cheerful now. "Ready. C'mon, guys."

The line was already starting to move through the doors without them. Carson shifted, wanting to follow it, needing to wait.

"My shoes!" Rodney protested, still pulling at the knot.

"You can carry them," Radek suggested, fastening the last buttons at top speed. "We will miss breakfast, Rodney."

"The door's shutting," John realised. "Run."

They ran. The door reopened full as John reached it, and he raced through it. Carson followed, and Elizabeth was close at their heels.

Rodney and Radek, slightly slower, lagged behind. The door was closing again, and Carson glanced back over his shoulder, expecting it to re-open for them.

It didn't. Radek halted suddenly, realising it wasn't going to. Rodney, not quite so lucky, collided with the door with a surprised thud.

The three in the corridor stopped, looking at each other.

"If you'd got ready when I _told _you to..." Elizabeth started, sounding exasperated, "then we wouldn't be missing breakfast."

John glared at her. "So, go on have breakfast," he retorted, turning back. "You'll get there fast enough, I'm sure. But _I'm_ not leaving guys behind."

"Did I say I was?" Elizabeth protested. "I'm just pointing out that this isn't going to look good on our first _day._"

"Can you guys stop arguing and get us out?" Rodney's voice came from the other side of the door, sounding slightly muffled. "There's no handle here, and I think I broke my nose."

"You did not break your nose, Rodney." Radek's voice was clearer, exasperated. "You have only banged it."

"Oh right, and you would know? You forgot to mention you're a qualified doctor?"

There seemed to be no handle on the outside either - no obvious way to trigger the door's opening. Carson stared at it, then took a step towards it doubtfully. Maybe there was some kind of hidden button.

The door slid open silently, revealing the two boys, Rodney clutching at a bleeding nose.

"Huh." John gave that a moment's attention. "Must just be automated."

"For you maybe," Rodney said bitterly. "Not for _us_!"

"You think the _ door_ hates you?" The concept was one that made John laugh out loud. "Come off it, Rodney!"

Radek was quieter about it though, struggling for a moment to articulate what he needed to say. "It is true that it closed and opened again for you... and not for us," he said carefully, moving his hands as though to show it closing. "Something, perhaps, was different?"

"We can look later!" John's expression had turned intrigued at the concept, and from Elizabeth's expression Carson realised he was going to have to get them moving if there wasn't to be another argument. "After breakfast. Rodney, let me look at your nose."

"Oh, so now you're a doctor too?" Rodney growled unhappily, blood dripping between his fingers.

"Or we can leave you here and let you bleed all over the floor?" Carson suggested, a little more sharply. "If that is what you prefer?"

No-one commented when they finally straggled in for breakfast, Rodney still complaining that if his no-longer-bleeding nose retained permanant damage he was going to hold them all responsible. The others were seated around a large table, and seemed mostly to have finished eating although occasionally someone would reach for one of the remaining slices of toast. Hastily, they slid into the remaining seats, helping themselves hungrily to what had been left. Cold toast and soggy cereal might not have been the perfect breakfast, but it was still much better than going hungry for the day.

Carson was trying not to giggle at the way Rodney ate - cheeks stuffed so full of food he looked like a hamster - when the doors opened again. Carson recognised the man who stepped in as the man who had scolded them the day before - Mr Woolsey. His expression he stopped on entering the room, surveying the assembled children and their mess - spilt milk, crumpled clothing and all - was so horrified, so completely _depressed_ for a moment, that it was difficult not to feel sorry for him.

It was fairly clear that he didn't want this job. Carson wondered why he was doing it if he hated it so much.  
No-one else seemed to have noticed though, and Mr Woolsey stepped smartly to the head of the table, setting down a pile of papers. John eyed him with dislike, Rodney with suspicion, and Carson wondered how the pair of them would react if they were told off, again, for wandering off. They really had to stop getting into trouble. He never had been so often at home!

"When you have finished with breakfast, you will be issued with a uniform," the man started, "I do not, therefore expect to see any of you arrive looking so.." he glanced at Rodney's now blood-stained shirt with palpable disgust, "disreputable again. I understand that all of you children are from different backgrounds, and not all of you have parents capable of supplying you with proper clothing. We will provide you with this, and I expect you, in return, to prove you are capable of presenting yourself like decent human beings."

Radek had flushed pink, and was looking as though he wanted to sink through his seat. So, to Carson's mild surprise, had John. For the first time, he felt a rush of real dislike for the man. It was just something in the way he _spoke_ to them... even if it were deserved, a scolding for turning up looking untidy would have been better.

"Similarly, I have already had to speak to some of you for wandering from where you were supposed to be, and for tampering with our equipment. This is unacceptable. From now on, I expect you to remain in whichever area you are scheduled to. In any case, you will find that the doors will only open for you if you are travelling with an escort. If you lag behind and get lost, you will find that you are trapped within rooms until someone comes to retrieve you. In this case, you will be disciplined. We have better things to do with our resources than tracking down disobediant children."

And that was just plain untrue, Carson knew! He glanced at the others, and found them looking similarly surprised. Elizabeth half-opened her mouth, as though to say something, but John gave a quick, warning, shake of his head and she shut it again. However it was that they were able to work the doors themselves, it would remain their secret.

"As you will, I am sure, come to understand when you are a little older, our work here is vital. Any distraction, or delay, in what we do could result in, not just endangering the people here, but in the very future of the people on Earth." Mr Woolsey leaned forward, picking up the papers and handing them to the small girl sitting to his left. "As you will see in the hand-outs which you will not receive - pass them on, please, don't just sit looking at the pile!"  
Suddenly this sounded more serious than a listing of the rules, and Carson sat up straight, starting to pay a little more attention. Unless the guy was just trying to frighten them into good behaviour, this sounded... well, _important! _

Elizabeth nudged him in the ribs, keeping her voice to a whisper as she leaned closer. "What did he mean_ 'people on Earth'?_" she hissed. "Isn't _everyone_ on Earth?"

"Maybe he's just being dramatic?" But he didn't _sound _as though he was being over-dramatic about it, not really. Carson reached obediantly for one of the bundles of paper as they came past him, read the first few lines and went still. "Or... not."

"I am... less good at reading English..." The quiet admission came from Radek a couple of seats down who was staring at his papers worriedly. "I believe I am understanding this wrong?"

"If you're understanding that we left earth when we came through that thing and ended up somewhere else, you're understanding it the same as everyone else..." Rodney mumbled, staring at his copy as though he didn't quite believe it were real. "That's..."

"Awesome," John completed, a grin starting to spread slowly over his face.

"I'm sorry?" Rodney turned to glare at him. "Did you miss the part where we're expecting to, oh, I don't know, _save the world?" _

"And? Dude, we're in _space!_" John emphasised, grin now stretching from ear to ear. "I don't care what we're here to do - it doesn't _get_ more awesome than that!"

"Mortal danger!" Rodney shook the papers at him.

John ignored him, singing happily under his breath. "I'm gonna fly a _spaceshiiip!" _Despite the situation, Carson had to struggle not to laugh.

They weren't alone. Throughout the room, children were reacting with exclamations of shock, horror and excitement. Across the table, a boy loudly stated that this wasn't at all what he'd agreed to and he was going to write to his father directly to complain. The girl next to him told him, at similar volume, to 'shut _up,_ Peter!'. A couple of children started to cry quietly. Several more started doing alien impressions. The room dissolved into chaos as Mr Woolsey stared at them, his expression once again one of undiluted horror.

He seemed frozen until a girl wailed that if they were in space they were all going to suffocate and die because there would be no air, and Rodney began to, very loudly, explain how _stupid_ that statement was. That spurred him back into action. "No-one is going to suffocate. There is perfectly breathable air on Atlantis, and we have the means to recycle it if necessary," he said sharply. "You will all be given opportunity to write to your parents in due course, but I expect you to understand the responsibility given to you by agreeing to come here and ensure all communication respects our confidentiality. Is that understood?"

The room fell quiet, except for the sobs of one small girl who continued whimpering for her mother. Mr Woolsey looked at her helplessly for a moment, and then decided to ignore her and carry on.

"Now, it is true you will be expected to assist in, ha, saving the world as it were. However, that will not be for a long while yet. This school exists to ensure that suitable children receive the best education possible so that when the time comes that you are... needed, you are prepared with all the training we can provide you with. There is no intent to place any of you here in unnecessary amounts of danger."

The snuffling sound was grating. Carson had to fight against the urge to go to the girl and just try to calm her down. He wondered silently what came under the heading of 'necessary' amounts of danger, and how exactly they measured that.

"When you are older however... you will have acquired the skills to save Earth from the threat of invasion - a threat, I must emphasise, that we have already faced once and fought off. The species we need to work against is known as the Wraith - I will be passing out another handout shortly with more information. For reference sake, however, this is one of the creatures in question. They hold the potential for great damage to humankind, as they feed on the lifeforce existing within humans."

He pressed a button, and the lights dimmed enough to project a clear image on the far wall. Carson pulled his attention from the crying girl and looked up. There seemed to be an alien on screen - an alien which bore more than a passing resemblance to monsters in the horror films he only got to see when his older brothers forgot he was in the room. There was hair - a lot of hair, oddly coloured skin, what seemed to be way too many teeth..

Elizabeth leaned close to him again, her face horrified. What she intended as a whisper sounded far too loud in the suddenly silent room. "Did he just say they _eat _people?"

As the sobs again rose to wails, and children again started to clamour - for parents, for home, for any place where they wouldn't have to fight man-eating monsters - Carson caught a glimpse of Mr Woolsey's panicked face, and realised that the man really had no idea how to work with children.

* * *

-

They had to escort them back to the dormitories in the end. Carson was fairly sure that hadn't been the original plan - there were too many scowls and disapproving faces among the escorts to indicate otherwise. But kids were crying, screaming, clawing at the doors... everything you'd expect from seven year olds shown pictures of horror film monsters, and told they were real. One little girl - the one who'd originally been crying - had seemed about to throw up if she wasn't made to calm down. Peter, the boy who had threatened to write to his father, was shouting about how his parents would sue, how everyone was going to be in a lot of trouble if they didn't get him home. Mr Woolsey had just kept right on blustering at them, and in the end it was one of the escorts who had stepped in and opened the door to lead them out.

Once back, they'd huddled in shocked little groups. Rodney had managed to grab some of the leaflets as they left, and he and Radek pored over them, muttering privately about theories and impossibilities. Elizabeth had gone silent - not crying as some of the girls were, but thinking, seeming as though she was struggling to digest what they'd been told. Even John was uncharacteristically quiet and serious.

It had been a struggle for Carson too. It was simply much too much - more information than anyone could be expected to digest at once. He'd ended up comforting the crying little girl - no-one else seemed to know how to approach her - calming her down from the edge of hysterics, and assuring her that no-one was going to be eaten - not just yet, anyway. Talking at her seemed to work, so he kept on until she'd calmed enough to remember her English, and told him shakily that her name was Miko, and she missed her mother.

She still wasn't happy when he returned to his friends, but she was at least no longer crying. It was the most he could do for now, and Carson made a mental note to check on her later. Someone had to make sure people were okay, and if no-one else was going to do it would have to be him - even if he wasn't so sure that _he_ was okay either.

By the time he got back to the others they were all, even Elizabeth, sitting clustered close together, talking intently.

For a moment, Carson felt small and awkward, left out of the group. He reminded himself sternly that _he_ had gone to check on Miko. It wasn't that they had excluded him, it was just that someone had needed fixing. Besides, wasn't it better that they liked Elizabeth than that she and John kept arguing? Still, it felt better when they looked up and smiled at his approach.

"What have we found out?" he asked, squeezing onto the bed beside Rodney. He didn't recognise the hand-out the other boy was holding - Rodney must have somehow managed to snag one of the ones Mr Woolsey hadn't had chance to give out.

"We're all going to die." And it seemed Rodney might be good at stealing papers, but he wasn't so good at pulling punches. He said it with a tense, unhappy look, shoulders hunched. "All - not just here, the whole _planet._ Our planet, that is. Earth. They... there are these monsters, and they invaded years ago, and there were only a few of them then. They think there are _spaceships_ full of them coming now, and they - there's just no way anyone can fight these!"

"Rodney is an optimist," John commented, and Carson was glad of his wry tone. "What we know is that they exist, they can kill people, and they might be coming back - but it said not for _years,_ Rodney," he added firmly, before the other boy could speak.

"It is bad," Radek said carefully - Carson was learning already that when he spoke slowly like that, it meant that he was trying to get the words in order in his mind before he got them out. "But it may not be _very_ bad. It is not for a long time yet, and they would not bring us here unless they thought we could learn a way to deal with it."

"So, you both know a way to stop approaching alien invasions, do you?" Rodney demanded.

"No," John admitted. "But yesterday I didn't know how to get to another planet just by using a shortcut thing." He shrugged his shoulders easily, seemingly already absorbing the information from the meeting. "They have cool stuff here. There'll be something. We'll work it out."

"We're here to learn," Elizabeth nodded, seeming for once to agree with him. "There'll be a way. We just don't know what it is yet."

It should have been comforting, but Rodney scowled still. "No-one _said_ we were meant to be coming here to save the world. They might have warned us."

"And scared everyone else who didn't see the danger?" Elizabeth said reasonably.

"I don't think they were even meant to tell _us_ yet," Carson offered. "Mr Woolsey didn't look as though he expected everyone to get all scared. I think maybe he made a mistake - like, maybe, they don't usually tell kids about this until much later."

"So, we will not need to do anything until..." Radek waved a hand, struggling for words again. "Until a long time away."

And that was a comfort. Still frightening, still bigger than Carson could really let himself think about, but at least a long, long way away.

"Right," John said, "When we grow up, we'll save the world. For now.." He grinned as though his habitual cheerfulness had reached the maximum limit he was able to supress it for. "I want to see where those doors go. The ones we aren't meant to be able to open."

* * *

-

They had emphasised, on his induction to Atlantis, just how costly radioing back to Earth was in terms of power. It was expensive, much more so than sending reports as data packages, and so it was to be used only when there was an urgent need to communicate.

Usually, Richard Woolsey would have taken this as good reason to refuse access to it altogether unless a dozen forms explaining why it was neccesary were filled in and submitted through the correct channels. Today, however, this fell by the wayside. This was urgent. He was stuck on a planet full of very small hooligans. Also, one of them had cried all over his shirt.

It took time to connect and verify who they were, more time for Woolsey to demand to speak to the right person and have someone go fetch him. The seconds dragged, every one of them hideously expensive. Woolsey tried to stop himself from mentally calculating the adding cost, almost twitching with the need to cut the call off as the time lengthened. Finally, a voice drawled again through the radio, sounding bored and a little impatient. "O'Neill."

"General." Woolsey breathed a sigh of relief at even getting that much response. After three minutes and sixteen seconds, he'd begun to think that no-one was going to bother to find the man. "I... I need to send a request to be reassigned. I'm not good at this job."

"Sure you are, Woolsey, IOA best and brightest and all that. Give it time. You've only been there a week." Was it his imagination, or did the other man sound amused by his ordeal?

"I said before I came, I don't work well with children!" Woolsey nearly wailed at the radio. "They don't obey orders! They don't understand how things must be prioritised! They don't act_ logically!"_

The sound that came through the radio sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh. "Well, you know that's the way geniuses work, even if they're just out of diapers or collecting a Nobel. Look, we've got orders, I've got orders, you've got orders up the wazoo and it doesn't look like they will be changing any time soon."

Realising he was getting nowhere, Woolsey sat back and stared peevishly at the radio. "I'm being punished, aren't I? That's why I've been sent out to be a... a glorified babysitter!"

"I couldn't possibly comment on who you may or may not have pissed off." O'Neill sounded far too cheerful about it. "However, your predecessor was real happy out there. Said it was nice and calm."

"Until he left," Woolsey pointed out resentfully. "Not happy enough to stay then."

"Well, no. There was an accident. Turns out that giving baby geniuses guns wasn't the smartest thing to do," O'Neill admitted. "Who knew? But hey, we switched up the age before they start dealing with the battleroom now. All nice and safe for you. Twelve year olds are much more sensible, I'm sure."

_"Guns?"_ Could he have missed - no, he'd read every page on this place they'd sent him. Twice. And then marked important passages in highlighter. "I thought the battlerooms were meant to be a simulation! No real weapons involved!"

"Oh, they are," O'Neill assured him, in a less than reassuring voice. "One of the bright sparks started modifying them though. Next thing you know, boom, and we've got a ton of staff needing medical treatment. Lucky you were on hand to take over really."

He wasn't feeling so lucky right now. Woolsey stared again at the radio, wondering pensively if the General was pulling his leg. It was possible... but it was also possible that it was the truth. Things _happened_ to people in places like this. You heard stories...

"As you're on the line," O'Neill went on, calmly, "how are the pipsqueaks doing? Burnt the place down yet?"

"Horribly," Woolsey informed him flatly. "Yesterday three of them turned a shield on around the gate while people were coming through, fortunately not the iris shield though, but one we didn't even know existed before they turned it on. Today, I tried to give them a presentation about their mission here, and frankly I'd be surprised if any of them absorbed any of it whatsoever after all the fuss..."

"Their mission.." There was a thoughtful pause for a moment at the other end of the line. "You told_ seven year olds_ about the _Wraith?"_

"Wasn't I meant to?" He'd thought maybe he'd put it the wrong way, or that they'd picked the wrong children. The idea of just not doing it simply hadn't occured.

"Well, sure.. if you want to have them wetting the bed and waking the place with screaming heebie jeebies for a month," O'Neill said. "Did you happen to show 'em any pictures subtitled "The Bogeyman, this is what it looks like, and it's real" while you were at it?"

"I told you!" Woolsey protested. "I'm not good with kids!"

"Yeah, but you didn't mention being two steps off Herod," O'Neill retorted. He seemed about to say more, but cut himself off, perhaps reminding himself that it was Woolsey's funeral if he did this wrong. Maybe literally in fact. "How are our little off-worlders doing? You want to upset them while you're about it? Maybe start a little war up there?"

"I've assigned other people to deal with those groups," Woolsey said, a hint of sulkiness in his voice. It wasn't as though he'd _claimed _to be good at the job.

"Well, we'll thank Heavens for small mercies that I won't have to come stop Mommy and Daddy Genii from kicking your ass at least then," O'Neill said dryly. "Could you at least _try _to avoid starting any kind of major wars, that kind of thing..? We're a little busy down here already, what with that whole impending end of the world we're all working to prevent."

"I'm working on it too!" Woolsey said defensively. "You know very well that the whole point of this mission..."

"As you've just told me that you're a glorified babysitter, I think I can render whatever point you're about to make about your valuable work null and void."

"Yes, well." He lapsed into wounded silence for a moment, before mumbling almost too quietly to be heard, "I had a career once..."

"And in your head, I'm sure it was a bright and shining thing," O'Neill said mildly. "Was there anything else, or were we just seeing how long it took for this call to bankrupt the entire planet?"

Woolsey hesitated, searching his brain for a moment. It seemed a shame to waste the power used to connect without achieving anything more useful than being laughed at by the General. "The plan remains to introduce the groups to each other when they're twelve?"

"Unless you want to find out firsthand what happens when you give weapons to 'em younger, yes," O'Neill agreed. "Keep 'em in lessons until then. And away from sharp things. And explodey things. And things that aren't necessarily explodey except under exactly the right conditions. Got it?"

"Got it." And just like that, the call was over. It seemed Woolsey was doomed to stay assigned to Atlantis after all.

He wondered bitterly just how much it would cost to send new job applications from there anyway.


	5. John 12

There were three reasons, Fraiser thought, to attend meetings. You attended them because you had to, you attended them because you thought it was important your opinion on something be heard, or you attended them to be an ass and stop someone else getting their own way. Of those assembled, Woolsey was there because he had to be, and she was there because someone had to ensure some sanity got injected where the kids were involved. It was hard not to suspect that the rest of the room was there for the third reason.

It was a shame that it would probably be immoral to sedate the lot of them and write minutes later that showed they had agreed to whatever needed to be decided. It would certainly make taking decisions a good deal easier.

"I tell you, he's completely unsuitable to lead," Woolsey said again for the third time. "He doesn't think ahead - he has no idea of consequences!"

"And I tell you, the boy is gifted," Kinsey repeated.

"So, he blows things up now and then. Isn't that what we want them to do?" Maybourne seemed bored by the whole argument. "Give him a try. What's the worst he can do?"

"Only in the correct time and place!" Woolsey was growing flushed under the pressure, near the end of his tether. "And judging from where he'd been found wandering, the worst he can do is blow up a planet or two. Use Elizabeth. _She's_ got a little common sense at least. And she can lead."

"She's a smart girl," O'Neill agreed. "You reckon she's ready to shoot someone though? Big difference between getting the others to sit down and shut up and stop exploding things and leading them into war to _start_ exploding things."

It had been going around that way for about thirty minutes, and Fraiser's head was starting to ache. They'd considered Rodney for all of a half second before discarding the idea, regretfully agreed that while both Carson and Radek were liked by most of the group neither of them showed any desire at all to lead, and had a pleasant five minutes' diversion reading young Peter Kavanagh's letters home and marvelling that the boy could be foolish enough to imagine any of them would ever make it through the filter. They had not, however, moved any further forward and Fraiser was starting to wish she'd never heard of Group 3. Next time she was just going to ignore her conscience and skip the meeting.

"Why don't we just skip Group 3 for now?" she suggested, trying not to grit her teeth. "We'll come back to it." Otherwise there was the chance she might never actually get to leave the meeting, but stay there for eternity, fighting the urge to strangle everyone concerned which would be definite breach of her Hippocratic oath.

To her relief, the suggestion met no argument. Maybe they were finally starting to annoy each other enough that they just wanted to get it over with as much as she did.

"To remind everyone where we were," Woolsey consulted the document, although Fraiser was fairly certain that they'd argued the names enough that the final decisions should be engraved on all their brains. "We agreed Samantha Carter to lead Group 1, the first Earth group. Group 2, our Athosian off-worlders, will be led by Teyla. Now, Group 4..." his finger skimmed over the page. "Group 4 is the Genii."

"Koyla," Kinsey responded immediately.

Almost at the exact same moment, O'Neill said "Cowan."

Fraiser fought the urge to groan.

"Kolya's about two steps and a sneeze off crazy," O'Neill said firmly. "I've read the reports on that kid - give him your hand and he's as likely to bite it off as pull himself up. And Cowan's the one who's taken charge of the group."

"Only because Kolya _lets_ him," Kinsey said with equal firmness. "If he wanted the leadership of the group already, he would have it. He's just steering from behind the other boy."

"Toss a coin?" Maybourne suggested hopefully, and was treated to a glare from both men.

Fraiser rubbed her forehead and tried to think of a solution that wouldn't take another half an hour. It was true the reports indicated that Kolya might be dangerously unstable, but it was equally true they indicated a strong gift for fighting and thinking strategically. Send him home, and risk losing the child who might save the world. Put him in charge, and risk creating a monster. Leave him and..

Well, maybe that was the best solution after all.

"If that's true, let Cowan lead," she suggested. "If Kolya prefers to lead through him, maybe that's how he'll show his talents best. If not... well, from what you've said he'll take charge anyway, so what we decide here doesn't matter."

Kinsey scowled, but couldn't find a hole in that argument. O'Neill seized the initiative quickly. "All in favour, say aye?"

A chorus of relieved ayes sounded.

"Right," he said, clearly satisfied. "Group 5 then."

"Hoffans," Woolsey offered. "They're pretty clearly led by Mylan."

"No other options?" Kinsey looked as though he were spoiling for a fight now.

Woolsey shook his head. "Everything gets discussed - they seem to agree most things amongst themselves, but in the end Mylan seems to get the final word.

"It's not healthy," Kinsey grumbled. "You need someone to take the decisions. Majority vote only works if the majority aren't having a stupid day."

"Well, it doesn't seem we've got an option," Maybourne said brightly, glad to rush them on. "Group 6?"

"Asurans," O'Neill said and scowled. "Does anyone else find them really creepy, or is it just me?"

Woolsey looked surprised by the suggestion. "I see nothing wrong with them. They do as they're told, they learn quickly, they adjust well.. I find them a lot easier to deal with than the earth children actually."

"You would," O'Neill said sourly. "To rephrase: does anyone who doesn't expect kids to act like miniature robots find them really creepy?"

"You can't exactly complain that children are too well-behaved," Fraiser admitted reluctantly, not wanting to delay the discussions any further. "But I know what you mean."

"Kids are meant to cause a bit of chaos now and then, that's what they're for. And that group look at you as though they're trying to read the thoughts inside your head." O'Neill grimaced. "Creepy."

"You're surely not scared of a group of twelve year olds, General?" Kinsey asked with poisonous politeness, raising his eyebrows.

"Spend an afternoon with them, then come back and tell me they're normal," O'Neill retorted. "Oh no, I forgot, you blackmail other people into doing that for you."

"Gentlemen!" Fraiser said sharply. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly these men could drop the topic at hand in order to go for each other's throats. "I believe we were discussing the best leader for the group, not how creepy they might be. Mr Woolsey, who would you recommend?"

Woolsey looked slightly surprised to be asked. "Ah - Oberoth?"

"Does anyone have any objection that don't concern the creepy way he looks at you?" Fraiser demanded, and paused only a second before moving them on. "Right. Oberoth it is."

It earned her a moment's hard stare from O'Neill, but he didn't challenge it. That had to be the sign that everyone really was ready to just get this over with. "Group 7 - the Sherilians."

Woolsey looked reluctant. "It really does have to be Lucius Luvin," he said, and was answered by a chorus of groans. "Look, I don't like the boy either, but who else would you have? No-one in the group would tell him what to do no matter who we named."

"Well, that writes off that group," O'Neill said dryly. "Never going to stop making puppy-eyes at him for long enough to save the world. Might as well shut them in a room with some crepe paper and let them cut out nice big red hearts until the war is over. How in the hell did you end up with that kid?"

"I would like to know that too, in fact," Woolsey agreed. He looked hard for a moment at Kinsey, Maybourne and Fraiser. "I can't see he's got high enough talents that he should have been selected at all. I can't help but wonder what selection criteria were considered."

Fraiser flushed a little, trying to rid herself of the memory of too many long meetings that dragged an eternity, when it seemed best to agree to _anything_ as long as it got them out. "Would have to check my notes," she murmured, glancing away. "I expect he did particularly well at interview or something."

"Something like that," Maybourne chimed in. "You gotta admit the kid's got good people skills."

"Fine, put him in charge of Group Love 'n Hugs, " O'Neill surrendered, nodding to Woolsey to make a note of it. "Just make sure you remember the crepe paper."

Woolsey did so, then glanced up. "Almost done," he promised. "Just this one and Group 3 now. It's the Manorians for Group 8."

"Smeadon," It was Kinsey who spoke up quickly this time. "A budding strategist there, and good at diplomacy too. You won't do better than him."

Fraiser held her breath, waiting for the inevitable objection, but to her surprise none came. "Smeadon it is then," she pronounced. "Which leaves... Group 3."

"Why do we have two earth groups anyway?" Maybourne complained. "We only have to do one for everyone else."

"Because earth has somewhat _more people_," Kinsey explained, making his voice slow and patronising as though to a child. "So we take_ more _children. Did you not notice that in the _many_ delightful selection meetings we've had to attend for this place?"

"That, and it's our planet we're saving at the end of the day. We had a hard enough time already convincing the others it was for _everyone's_ good if we set this place up," O'Neill noted. "Frankly, I only think they agreed because the best and the brightest tend to be pains in the ass to live with. So, John or Elizabeth?"

Both Woolsey and Kinsey opened their mouths as though to speak. Fraiser jumped in before they could. "Why not both?"

"Both?" Maybourne queried. "Can we do that?"

"Usually, no." Kinsey looked at her suspiciously. "Explain."

She had said it mostly in the hopes of averting another hour of arguing, but now she thought about it, it was easy to build a justification around it. "You're correct in that John is the best of the group to lead them into a fight," she said slowly. "But the leadership of wartime is not that same as... just dealing with things day to day. If we ever have to activate the Plan of Last Resort."

"Is that ever actually a possibility?" Maybourne jumped in, a little anxiously. "I thought this whole thing was only to be used if all else failed in any case."

"Yes, Maybourne, that would be why it's the Plan of Last Resort," O'Neill said sharply. "Otherwise it would be the Plan of Can't Be Bothered To Think Of Something Better. Go on, Fraiser."

"Still, it's not likely we're ever going to have to use it, is it?" Maybourne persisted. "In reality?"

"No, no, it's not. But we have to be prepared as though we _were,_ which is why I have to spend hours of my life I will never get back attending these meetings," O'Neill said. "Go _on_, Fraiser."

Actually, Fraiser was fairly certain he didn't have to attend the meetings at all. He seemed to invite himself, in fact. Still, there seemed little advantage in pointing that out now. "In the event of the Plan of Last Resort, Elizabeth would be the best leader for the events following," she said. "But then, John would be best for the events immediately before. Surely, it would be best to give them both a taste of leading the group in advance, just in case they ever are needed?"

"Huh." O'Neill seemed to contemplate that. "Any objections?

"Well.." Woolsey started.

"Other than the fact that you have a quest of personal vengeance going against an twelve year old?" O'Neill added. "Really, you have to start finding better arch-enemies. He hasn't even got any superpowers."

Woolsey deflated. "No."

"Never mind," O'Neill said consolingly. "It is all the cute little kid arch-enemies that cause the most trouble. Well-documented." He stood up, stretching out his legs. "And if we can call that a day, I'm heading back."

Maybourne stood too, though it seemed he had been thinking. "You realise that if we ever have to use this plan, we're gonna be loosing a race of military and scientific geniuses upon the world?"

"And if we ever have to use this plan, I have absolutely no objection to that," O'Neill retorted, and turned to go. "Got the details, Woolsey? Then I'll see you next meeting."

* * *

-

**John**

"I still don't see why no-one considered putting_ me_ in charge," Rodney complained, trailing after the group. "I mean, no offence, Elizabeth, but you're hardly brilliant. And if it weren't for me, John would have gotten us all killed a dozen times over just in the last five years."

From anyone else, it would have been offensive. From Rodney... John felt his lips twitch into a smirk, and out of the corner of his eye could see Elizabeth trying not to laugh. Just Rodney being Rodney as usual.

"Perhaps they did not make you leader because you insult everybody," Radek suggested mildly.

"I do not insult everybody! Only when they deserve it!"

Radek snorted. "Rodney, if you were in charge, I believe Aiden would be killing you within a week," he said succinctly. "And Evan, perhaps, would help."

"It's true, he would," John agreed, without breaking stride. "First time you spoke to him as though he was a brain-dead three year old for not seeing whichever solution was only obvious to your brain."

Rodney spluttered indignantly. "It's hardly my fault if the rest of you lag behind!"

"Within a _week,_ Rodney," Radek repeated cheerfully, and came to a halt as they rounded the corner and reached their destination.

The battleroom. The place John had been waiting to get to for the last five years.

Well, officially, at least. In reality, he'd been breaking out to go stare at the place almost since the week they had arrived. It had driven poor old Woolsey almost insane, but it seemed there was nothing he could do about it. Anything put in the system to block areas off was over-ridden as soon as John wanted a door to open - a fact he'd taken thorough and happy advantage of. It had been a fascinating place for a seven year old, to stand and stare as bigger children filed past in their uniform to go fight.

It was _still_ a fascinating place for a twelve year old. It was just that now they'd be the ones fighting.

"Is everybody ready?" he checked again, eying the group. "Everyone know what we went through? If you're no good at fighting just... stay near the back and try not to get shot while we handle things, okay?"

"I still think effectively ignoring half of us exist is a stupid plan," Rodney muttered. "If you'd just look at what I worked out.."

"Not now, Rodney," John hushed him. "I let you handle your science stuff, you let me handle this, okay? Aiden, Evan, you guys ready? Just try to get to their gate."

He'd got to know Aiden Ford and Evan Lorne well over the last few years. He didn't have quite the same teasing relationship with them that he had with Rodney or Carson, but they had firmly established themselves as Good Guys. And in something like this, they were good enough shots to give their group the advantage he was sure.

Elizabeth was eying him anxiously. "Are you sure this is the best plan?" she asked. That was Elizabeth speak, he knew, for 'I don't think that's a very good plan at all, is it, John?". She wasn't going to say so now though, not when they were both still too carefully feeling around the boundaries of each other's authority. It was only Rodney's grumbling that had made that easier.

"I'm sure," John said firmly as the other team approached the room. They were led by a slender looking girl, and he felt bad about that. It didn't seem fair to her somehow, that her group had to face down so many big guys - it seemed they ought to have given her an easier group to start against.

Still, the point was to win, right? He straightened proudly, giving the group the nod to get ready to enter. "Piece of cake."

In the end, it was a rout. It just wasn't the type John had expected. It started so well, as planned, with him, Aiden and Evan charging towards the opposite gate.

They'd been frozen within seconds. John was almost sure that the slight little girl he'd so quickly written off hadn't even _looked_ as she'd shot them, somehow getting off a direct hit every time. Frank, Laura, Alicia and the others soon followed - a few of them managed to let off a couple of shots before they were frozen, but inevitably they _were_ frozen, left bobbing about the room helplessly. Everyone John had been depending on to take the opposing gate..

After that it fell apart. There was no plan for that point - John had been so certain that they would win that he hadn't bothered to plan for it. Elizabeth had tried to take control, snapping out orders, but she hadn't known what to do and it showed. Rodney had somehow managed to drop his gun, and was left staring after it as it floated into the territory of the opposing team.

Carson had been just about the only good surprise - no-one had expected him to be _able_ to shoot anyone, but he'd somehow managed to when he saw one of the 'enemy' aiming at Rodney, even if he'd been wide-eyed with panic as he did so. It was probably thanks to him that Rodney had been one of the few left unfrozen when the other team moved through and, with very little fuss and bother, took their gate. Not that this made any of them feel any better, really, afterwards.

"I'm going to write to my father," Peter Kavanagh announced loudly, to the surprise of nobody, as they filed out. Five years of his father not managing to get anything at all changed, or indeed answering his requests at all, had never seemed to dint the boy's faith that one day he would. "Ask him to get them to move me to another group." He gave John a dirty look, before turning away and muttering in a voice that was far too loud to be counted as 'under his breath'. "This one sucks."

They watched him go silently, quiet until he'd vanished around a corner, back to their room. More doors were open to everyone now they were twelve - not just Carson and John. It gave people somewhere to sulk on a bad day. Right now, that was feeling like a good idea.

"You know," Rodney said, once Peter was out of sight. "Much as I dislike the guy he's kinda right. We uh... we got decimated out there."

"Thanks, Rodney." For once the rule of 'it's only Rodney' didn't apply. John was feeling a little too bruised right now to deal with it. "Would you maybe like to kick me some more while I'm down?"

"I'm only saying that if you'd listened to me.." Rodney started to protest, but Carson was moving in, and John was grateful for that. Carson's sixth sense for when someone really couldn't stand any more could be a useful thing.

"Did I see you bang yourself in there, Rodney?" he said now, mildly. "I think you went into a wall in there, gave yourself a wee knock."

Rodney looked startled, but was suitably distracted from his complaints. "I don't think so.."

"I'm sure I saw you bang your head. Come on now, why don't you let me take a look at it? We don't want you dying in your sleep tonight." After five years training in the Infirmary, Carson had become their default go-to person for minor injuries they didn't want to go to anyone official about. It was a handy bit of knowledge when one of their misadventures had left them a bit bruised up.

Even handier now, when some way to get Rodney to go away and hush up was needed. "Is it that serious? I suppose I do have a bit of a headache."

"Well, if we see to it straight away I expect I can probably stop your head from falling off." Carson's quick, hidden wink as he led Rodney away did not go away. Radek, clearly quashing his urge to laugh, followed behind. Most of the rest of the class seemed already to have drifted off one place or another.

Maybe intentionally come to think of it, because that left John and Elizabeth. Just what he _didn't_ need.

"It was our first time," he said, before she could say anything, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the far wall. "I expect everyone makes mistakes on their first time."

"I expect so." She didn't sound angry, she sounded worried, which was worse. John could argue with angry. Worried was harder to deal with.

"We go back, we have a rethink, we adjust what we're doing.. next time we do better," he went on, knowing too well he sounded as though he were trying to convince himself as much as her. "It was a fluke bad result, doesn't have to mean anything much."

"Mm." That was a noncommital noise, and after a moment Elizabeth stopped walking. "John?"

Ah, here it came. John too stopped, swinging round to face her. "Elizabeth," he acknowledged, painfully polite. If she was going to yell, he wasn't going to make it easy.

She seemed to be struggling for words though, careful to only say exactly what she wanted to. "Look, I know the way they've done things, I don't have any authority over the.. the fighting side of it. What we do in there is under your orders."

Damn right it was, John's brain agreed, already ready for the argument should she try to challenge that. He waited though, sensing she wasn't done yet.

"But we're dealing with the same people," Elizabeth went on. " I mean to say, if one of us messes up-" she blushed, realising how that sounded, and rushed to cover it. "No, I don't mean it to be an accusation! What I mean to say is, we can't work entirely seperately here. Whatever one of us does is going to affect the other."

"Right." It came out more hostile than John meant it to, and he could see her falter.

"I mean.. _actually,_ what you mean is, if you need me to help at all, with anything, just ask. I'm not going to try to take over but.. we're going to have to work together, or it's going to be really bad. For everyone."

"I'll keep that in mind." He managed to keep the hostility out of that response at least. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

Maybe it wasn't the response she had wanted, but it was as good a one as he was prepared to give for now. She looked at him a moment more, and then nodded, turning to head briskly away.

And that left... just John. Maybe the others had thought it was a kindness leaving him alone to work through it, but it felt an awful lot like being abandoned. He thrust his hands in his pockets, fighting the feeling he might just have screwed up badly, telling himself he didn't mind. He _wouldn't_ mind. He'd just walk a while until he'd gotten past the worst of the need to snarl and sulk, and could put his normal cheerful face on things.

He started walking, not caring that doors opened and shut, leading him to rooms he'd never visited before. That happened often enough, and it wasn't as though the city seemed likely to let him come to harm unless he sought it out. Usually it seemed positively eager to protect him - something that Rodney was still loudly jealous about. The only thing to be careful about was getting caught wandering where he wasn't supposed to be by an adult.

He didn't expect to stumble across another boy though, especially not one he'd been fighting that day. Were they meant to be able to access other groups' areas? John wasn't sure, but it was too late to pretend he hadn't been there now. He'd already been seen.

"Hi," he offered awkwardly, unsure how his presence would be taken.

The other boy, though, seemed unsurprised to see him. He studied John calmly for a moment before speaking. "Are you here to talk?"

Well, if he was offered an excuse, he wasn't going to resist _taking_ it. "Uh, yeah," John agreed quickly, seizing on that. "That's exactly what I'm here for. Talking."  
If he sounded flustered, the other didn't seem to notice, but turned away. "Come."

The other group's dormitory seemed to be set up differently to theirs. While theirs was filled with rows of little beds and drawers, with pillowcases and blankets in colourful blue, red, green and yellow, this was... different. Different colours, shaded more towards creams, and browns, different furniture. John wondered curiously if the other groups' rooms were set up differently too, and who decided what would feel most like home to them. Certainly, no-one had bothered to actually ask.

The atmosphere was different too, quieter. It was hard to imagine their rooms now without imagining some kind of rowdiness going on in them - Rodney squabbling with Radek, Peter threatening to write to his father for the millionth time, Miko sobbing in a corner about something. There was always _something_ - if there was quiet in there, it was rare it lasted for more than five minutes. Here.. it was busy still, filled with children on their private errands, but it was more.. peaceful, without the undercurrent of constantly threatening chaos.

Certainly, it was hard to imagine anyone _meditating_ in their group's room. Here though, it seemed people managed it just fine. The girl who had led the group this afternoon was sitting composedly on the floor, eyes shut, legs crossed, seemingly in a world of her own. John stared a little, unable to quite hide his surprise at that.

His guide cleared his throat, just a little, and her eyes opened. Somehow John got the feeling she wasn't surprised to see him there - and _that _was just downright unsettling. It wasn't as though he had meant to come!

"Halling," she greeted calmly, before looking at John. He wondered privately if there was any time these kids _did_ look surprised. "And you, I believe, are John Sheppard."

They'd been introduced before the 'battle' of course, though John had been too excited to take much in the way of names in. It seemed that she hadn't.

"Right," he agreed, hoping she didn't also expect him to remember hers. He gave an awkward little wave. "Hi."

"Teyla," Halling said, and John blessed him privately for providing that name. "He came to talk."

"Talking's pretty much what I'm about," John agreed hastily. "Thought we could uh... discuss things, talk them over. Uh. That was a good battle there earlier." He should have brought Elizabeth. Elizabeth was good at talking to people. When he wasn't trying to drag them into something on the other hand, his words tended to give up.

Much to his relief though, Teyla smiled at him slightly. If he wasn't dealing with things totally smoothly, at least he hadn't completely screwed them up. "Come then," she suggested lightly, rising smoothly to her feet. "We shall talk."

There now. Maybe he _wasn't_ so bad at talking to people after all.

* * *

-

Half an hour later he was settled with a mug that tasted nothing like any tea _he'd _ever tasted, and feeling decidedly less sore about being beaten. It was hard to resent Teyla and the others for being good at fighting. It wasn't as though they gloated over it.

John wasn't at all sure the same could be said for his group, had their positions been reversed.

"So, you come from another _planet?_" he asked, wide-eyed. Of course, they'd had lessons - dozens of them -on the other colonised planets, but there was a difference between learning, and actually _meeting_ an alien. Even if these aliens looked remarkably human.

"So are you," Teyla pointed out calmly.

"Well, yes, but," John protested. "Atlantis doesn't count as being separate from earth. It's just... home." Five years had made it that, five years in which he'd had plenty of time to get accustomed to communicating with his family only by letters, which grew progressively shorter as the time passed. It was probably for the best. It was a lot harder for his father to yell through a letter.

She smiled at that. "A lot closer to our home than yours! At least," the smile grew sad, "to what _was _our home."

"Because you came here?" John queried.

"Because it is not there any more." She hesitated a moment, and then spoke quickly. "You do not fight badly, your group, but you view it as a game. You leave people out, because you know it does not mean they actually die if they get shot. _That _is why you lost. It is not a game, and you must plan as though those that you lose, you lose forever."

"Aw, come on!" John protested at that, immediately back on the defensive. "Not a game? We're playing with toy guns!"

Teyla regarded him calmly again. "And if they were real? And we were a real enemy?"

"Then I wouldn't take Rodney and Carson out where they might have to shoot people!" John said, and then reconsidered that. "Well, maybe Carson. He'd be good to have around if you did get shot, I guess."

"And the others would be useful for other things," Teyla suggested. "You may not always go out knowing that you will find an enemy who wishes to shoot at you. You cannot always leave them at home, just in case there _may_ be danger."

"Huh, Rodney would probably prefer it if we did," John admitted. "But I see your point."

Again, she hesitated a moment, as though choosing her words with care. "And sometimes the fight may come to you. For the people you work around now, imagine... children, old people, people too old to fight. You cannot just forget that they exist when you plan. You must give them a plan that means even if your fighters are lost, they have a chance."

John stared at her, suddenly understanding why they might not view this so much as a game. "That's what happened to you?" he asked. "To your world?"

"Many times. Further back than we remember." She was grave now, all trace of a smile gone. "Our people would settle, they would be content, they would grow in numbers.. and the Wraith would come. Always, they would return in the end. They killed many, they took more.."

"The Wraith?" And that was a familiar name, even if the teachers had been awfully careful to stay away from it since that first horrifying lesson. "That's those monsters that eat people - the ones old Woolsey wasn't meant to tell us about." He paused to consider that. Five years did a lot to damp down that memory, making it easy to convince yourself that the enemy wasn't that big, wasn't that bad, that everyone had been scared because they were _seven_ and seven year olds were scared of pretty much everything. But this.. this sounded like something that really _ought_ to be scary. "They're what's coming to _Earth_?"

Teyla frowned a little, studying him. "They did not tell you that?"

"Not in so many words, no," John said flatly. "In fact, I don't remember the words "genocidal monsters which keep on returning just when you think you've got rid of them" coming up in lessons at all. Funny, that."

She looked serious, holding her cup between two hands. "I am sorry. They should have told you. It is something which I believe you need to know."

"It would have been kinda nice," John agreed. "Being that it's our planet and all that we're meant to be protecting."

Teyla stared at him for a moment, her expression for once looking a little startled. "Well, yes. And everywhere else." She tipped her head to the side, concerned. "They did not tell you that, either?"

Oh, now, enough was enough. John stared back, and then set his cup down on the floor, trying to clear his head. It was a minute before he could find the right words. "Why don't you just tell me what you think I need to know?"

* * *

-

It turned out that what she thought he needed to know was a whole lot of stuff. John had a good deal to think about as he made his way back to the others, and one part of it was who he should share it with, and how much he should share.

Telling everyone everything was unthinkable. He might resent old Woolsey not bothering to fill them in properly, but he could at least understand why he had done it. The best that could be expected, even at this age, if he explained just what Wraith could _do_ would be more tears and frightened kids. Peter, of course, would end up writing to his father. _Again._

But, just as unthinkable, was keeping it all to himself. Rodney should know, even if he panicked, because Rodney was smart enough to see solutions no-one else would. Radek had to know because his brain bounced off Rodney's, the two of them finding solutions together that neither could find alone, even if the finding caused arguments that took over half the dormitory. Carson should know because, well, he was _Carson._ Elizabeth had to be told, though John disliked admitting it to himself, because she was probably the only one of them capable of keeping almost everyone calm should word get out.

And then there were the others he could depend on to fight - Aiden and Evan, Frank, Laura, Alicia and the others. Didn't they have to know? Shouldn't they be preparing for a fight that big, even if it was years ahead?

Which would result in a secret known by, oh, at least a third of the group. No faults at all _there_ then.

That was without even starting to explain the rest of it to them - that the job wasn't to be the basic "save Earth and go home" they had gathered. No, it was to be far bigger than that, with the trained children growing up to protect every civilisation from Wraith, an inter-galactic force that worked constantly to keep them back. Obvious, when you came to think of it. Why _would_ people give up their children just to protect a planet that wasn't theirs? But it was difficult not to be Earth-centric in your thinking, difficult to not think of that as the _important_ part of the job. You finished it up, and you left. Except, it seemed that you didn't.

John felt suddenly and inexplicably homesick for a place he hadn't seen in five years. And he hadn't even _liked _it there.

Maybe it showed on his face when he walked in. The others had clustered into a group, as usual, but the guilty way they glanced up when he came over said a lot. Clearly, the "how do we approach John and tell him he sucked" discussion then. Lovely.

An hour ago, it would have made him want to walk away and bury his head under his pillow a while. Now.. there were more important things to worry about, like saving the world - like saving _all_ the worlds.

"Hey," he said casually, sitting down beside Rodney as though nothing in the world was wrong. "So, it went pretty badly earlier, huh?"

He suspected he could read relief in their expressions that he hadn't made them be the ones to bring it up. "You could say that," Elizabeth agreed cautiously.

"So, we talk it over, we work out what went wrong, and next time we do better," John suggested. "We just make sure we don't go repeating mistakes."

He felt, rather than saw, the looks that passed between them. "We?" Carson said cautiously.

"Yeah, what happened to "you deal with your science, and let me deal with this"?" Rodney agreed, before Radek elbowed him.

No getting around it then. Not with Rodney's bluntness. "I guess that was kinda a bad call," John admitted, trying at least to do it graciously. "I mean, if you guys are out there I can't just go ignoring that you exist, right? It wouldn't work in the real world - you'd end up getting shot while we were getting sorted. And we're meant to be running this as though it were the real world, so I better make sure you're okay."

"I wish you'd worked that out before someone gave me concussion by throwing me into a wall," Rodney groused, under his breath this time.

"Yes, well, I'm sorry you got knocked into a wall, Rodney," he said, a little more loudly. Sometimes it was a little hard to get Rodney to just let a subject drop. "But for now we have to concentrate on getting it right, okay?"

"I'm just saying, head injuries can be very dangerous and.." Rodney stopped, conscious the entire group was glaring at him. "Fine, fine. How are we going to get it right?"

"I want to make sure you guys who aren't so good at fighting have something to do other than just... standing there," John said. "That just leaves you helpless if the rest of us get shot. And we need to make sure you're _not_ helpless too. I mean, I'm not saying you've got to spend all your time practicing shooting, but... Carson managed to shoot someone. It's not as though you can't at least learn _how._"

Carson went red at this. "I was just doing what I had to, really," he said, uncomfortably. "I mean, it's not as though I _want_ to shoot people, but... the guy was going to shoot Rodney, so.."

"So, you did what you had to do," John agreed. "Just what's needed. And... and Elizabeth needs to have a plan in case I get shot."

Elizabeth looked startled. "I do?"

"You do. Even if it's only to get everyone to retreat and regroup while you work out what to do next," John said. "We can't just fall apart like that again."

There was a moment while they all considered that, before Radek spoke up hesitantly. "It would be good to... not be shot again," he said carefully. "However, not all of us will be _good_ at fighting. It is..." he shrugged. "we are better at other things."

"Things that don't involve getting concussed," Rodney muttered.

"Right," John thought for a second, working on the spot now. "So can you guys work on those other things, between fights, while we're practicing shooting? I mean, it doesn't have to be complicated to get a moment of surprise, does it? Smoke bombs, stink bombs - they give you enough access to stuff that could make those, right? Could you get a group working on them?"

"I think we can do a little better than _smoke bombs,_" Rodney said scornfully.

Elizabeth glanced at Carson. "Could you.."

"I will put them back together when they have blown themselves up with whatever is better than smoke bombs, yes," Carson said resignedly. "Just after I've fixed whatever John's lot do to themselves practicing shooting each other.

"Hey!" Rodney and John protested in union.

Elizabeth shrugged. "I've seen what happens when you people get carried away. Please, at least talk to me _before_ you test anything incredibly exciting and dangerous? Somebody needs to provide some sense of moderation."

It seemed fair enough, and John nodded. "Fine," he agreed. It wasn't as though he couldn't work out some way to disguise anything she might say 'no' to anyway. "Uh, you guys will remember that we're not actually trying to _hurt_ the other groups, right? I mean, this isn't exactly a game but it's more... practice. You don't maim the guys you're happen to be practicing with."

Rodney - and Radek too for that matter - looked just a touch disappointed. "Fine," he agreed. "As long as you aren't _expecting _our best work. I mean, it's going to limit us horribly having to explain everything to people who don't even _understand_ what we're talking about.."

"Nevertheless," Elizabeth said firmly, "you're going to have to work around it. It's all fun and games until somebody accidently sets off a nuke."

John rumpled a hand through his hair, leaving it even more untidy. "Right. Could you keep an eye on that then, Elizabeth, keep them out of trouble? And... could you ask if we can have any supplies they need? You seem to get further with that stuff than me. I seem to set old Woolsey's back up." It was at least partly intentional perhaps, but something about the man seemed to set John snarling and ready to misbehave just to piss him off.

It was a good move though. The shared responsibility earned him a quick smile from Elizabeth. "I think I can handle that."

"Okay. That should see us sorted then. We just need to really focus before the next battle, and I reckon we can work out what we're doing," John said firmly. "We just... we need to get it right. It's important."

"It is?" Carson looked at him questioningly. John couldn't blame him for that. A few hours ago it had been a game, and now, suddenly, it was serious.

"Yeah, you see.." he started, and stopped, uncertain how to go on. There were too many eyes looking back at him, too many of them _trusting_ him. They all had family back on earth. Elizabeth had her parents, Rodney had his sister, Radek had a sister and brother, Carson had more siblings than anyone could count and a mother who still persisted on sending him woolly jumpers... Most of the group had a jumper that had come from Carson's mother - they brought the mass of packages from home through the stargate once or twice a year, and she seemed to send him more than one person could ever possibly wear.

If John was already homesick, and his family barely bothered to send a letter to him every month or so, how much worse would it be for those whose families still loved them and missed them? How hard would it to be to hear that this was important because if they didn't all succeed in it, if they couldn't fight _well enough_, those families might be doomed? How hard to hear that even if they won there would be no going home, that the other planets' children had been sent to help only on condition that they would all _keep_ helping protect everyone, the whole galaxy, forever?

He didn't have the words for that. He wasn't good at talking anyway and that.. it wasn't fair to ask him to explain that to them. Maybe no-one could.

"..we don't want to lose again, do we?" he finished instead. "Imagine the letter Peter will send to his dad if we don't get it sorted out!"

That drew an appreciative laugh from the group and, much to John's relief, the subject was dropped.

He would just have to make _sure_ they did well, and learnt a fighting strategy. The others didn't need to know why.

* * *

-

Of course, it couldn't all run perfectly to plan. The whole dormitory had to be emptied a few days later when, no-one was quite sure how, Radek and Rodney managed to set it on fire. John still wasn't quite sure what had gone wrong there - one moment the pair were babbling excitably away in a corner, the next there was a bang, people were screaming and there was smoke everywhere. They hadn't even looked as though they were doing anything _dangerous._

Rodney had assured him that they were about two seconds from the discovery of pure brilliance if only it hadn't blown up. Knowing Rodney, there was even a possibility that this was true.

Their next battle was better but, much to John's utter embarrassment, just as they were starting to get the upper hand, an accidental shove from Aiden had sent him spinning into a wall. The padding hadn't stopped it hurting when he went face-first into it, and he saw stars for a moment, pain exploding from his nose. Someone was shouting, asking if he was all right - it sounded like Carson, but it was hard to tell in the chaos of the battle-room.

And then, as though by magic, the room powered off. The anti-gravity suddenly shut down, dumping the surprised children on the floor in a pile of tangled limbs as they tried to remember which way was up.

"What happened?" someone - several someones - demanded, amongst the yelps, protests, and demands that elbows be taken out of stomachs _immediately._

"Power cut?" Evan suggested, extracting himself from the pile.

Rodney gave him a withering look, heaving himself up from the floor. "No." he said flatly. "I've seen how the power here works. If it was cut off you'd hear alarms and stuff, probably just before we all died of something or other. Power is _important_ here. It's not just a.. a fun thing for battle rooms and stuff."

"John got hurt," Carson pointed out, and maybe it was him who'd yelled earlier, because he was close enough now to just step over and pull John's hand away from his nose. "Are you all right, John?"

"I just banged it." His voice sounded thick and nasal, but the initial shock was wearing off now. It was bleeding though, and Carson frowned as John tried to mop it up with his sleeve. He stopped that after a second or two. Touching it _hurt._ Leave it alone and it just throbbed dully. "They didn't turn the room off just for that, did they?"

"They never have for us _before._" One of the other group scowled, staring at John as though assuming he'd done it on purpose. He wasn't the only one, John noticed. There were some decidedly hostile looks coming his way.

"I'm sure it wasn't anything he meant to do." The other leader tried to take control now, calming his group down.

"Thanks for that uh, Cowan?" He'd actually _listened_ to the names this time at least. "I'm sure it's not anything I _did_ however, meant to or not. Just a malfunction, that's all."

"Or someone stepping in," Carson muttered, still hovering. "You need to get that nose looked at. I'm not sure if you've managed to break it."

"If someone had stepped in, they should be in here by now," Elizabeth pointed out, glancing towards the door for a moment before she looked back at Rodney. "Rodney, could you check what happened?"

Rodney stared at her for a moment. "_Me_? I... you realise that's the admin level access you're wanting information about there? We don't have access to that stuff!"

The protest didn't seem to disturb Elizabeth in the slightest. "Could you check it, please?"

Rodney spluttered a moment, and then seemed to give in, heading towards the doors of the battleroom. They swung open easily - whatever had turned the anti-gravity off must also have unlocked them - and the nearest console was only a few feet away.

As though at a signal, the two teams followed him in a group, John still dripping blood.

"Quit crowding me," Rodney complained. "John, can't you find a hanky or something? That's seriously disgusting. You're probably spreading some horrible disease."

Battle suit uniform pockets weren't designed big enough to hold much, and by the time a hankerchief had been located, Rodney had seemingly managed to make his way into the admin system. It was quick and easy enough that John couldn't quite help wondering privately just how many times Rodney had already been in and out again when no-one was realising.

No-one except Elizabeth perhaps. _She_ looked entirely unsurprised.

"Do you know what it is?" John inquired thickly. "There's gotta be an error code or something, right? Battle room blue screen of death?"

"Yes, yes, I'm checking. Stop rushing me." Rodney waved him away. "Just.. let me doublecheck this. It can't be right."

John obligingly fell quiet for a minute or two, watching as Rodney flicked quickly through various screens. "Tried turning it off and on again?" he suggested,when the other boy seemed to be dragging it out.

"Shut up, all right? I was checking," Rodney snapped, swinging around to face the group. He glared at John. "It's you."

John blinked, still holding the hanky gingerly to his bleeding nose. "Me?"

"I _knew_ you'd done something," the other group's complainant said, scowling again. "Cheating."

"Shut up, Kolya," Cowan quieted him, though he looked a little uncomfortable. "I'm sure it wasn't on purpose.. was it?"

"Well, him too," Rodney amended, nodding towards Carson who, if anything, looked more shocked than John by this news. "Look, it's no surprise. We already knew the city liked you two. You get hurt, he gets worried about it, and wham, it powers down." He twisted back towards the console, powering it back down with a couple of keystrokes. "Some people get all the luck."

"The city... likes you?" Cowan was looking confused, and John wished he'd had enough warning to tell Rodney to shut up. That was supposed to be _their_ secret.

"Nothing special. Just opens doors for us and stuff," he said roughly, trying to shrug it away. "One of those little weirdnesses, you know."

"What kind of stuff?" And John wasn't sure he hadn't liked Kolya better when he was looking hostile. There was something about that intrigued thoughtful look that was just downright disturbing when it was turned on you.

Probably that was just him being paranoid. His nose was throbbing still though, and when he dabbed at it, it sent another sharp wave of pain through him.

Carson must have caught the telltale grimace. "Infirmary for you," he said firmly, ignoring that question and taking hold of John's arm. "Rodney, what will the teachers think happened?"

"Oh, I fixed it so they'll think it was just a malfunction," Rodney said airily. He paused, as though expecting a response, and then added in an injured tone. "Thank you, Rodney. That _was_ brilliant of you - and in such a short time too!"

"Thank you, Rodney," Carson responded drily. He nodded to the other group, already starting to lead John away. "Sorry we have to cut this short, but. I'm sure we'll fight again later."

"I'm fine," John protested again, but with Elizabeth falling into step on his other side that did no good whatsoever and he was led away to the Infirmary whether he liked it or not.

* * *

-

The adults in the Infirmary were even less inclined to believe a "fine" than Carson had been. A glance at John and his bloodstained uniform and he was bustled away without the chance to object further, with Carson and Elizabeth left to wait for him.

He was glad of that a few minutes later, for setting a broken nose turned out to be even more painful than breaking it had been. Being left alone afterwards allowed him to scrunch his face up in a most un-leaderish way and allow himself a moment or two of feeling sorry for himself. Rodney would have yelled and fussed, whether people had been there or not, but he wasn't Rodney and he couldn't go acting like him.

It was odd though, when John came to think of it, that the adults had left Carson behind. Admittedly, it wasn't as though _he_ had much medical knowledge, but he knew enough to recognise that Carson was competent and knowledgeable enough to manage most minor injuries without a problem. He'd _seen_ him do it.

Mostly, he'd seen him after they'd gotten hurt after doing something they shouldn't, of course. That probably explained a lot. It was something the adults didn't need to know, so they didn't, just as they didn't know that John and Carson could do almost anything short of asking the city to sit up and beg, that Rodney had probably been hacking into their files for months, that Elizabeth could smile and usually wind them around her little finger and that Radek could.. well, no-one was quite sure _how_ much Radek could do. He was quieter than Rodney, but then so were explosions.

That was the whole bunch of them then, running about five steps of where the adults thought they were. It was sort of sad, John thought, that they couldn't out-think twelve year olds, but then people never seemed to think even _smart_ kids could function without being told what to think, so maybe that explained it.

Interesting, too, that no-one had been watching the fight enough to see that he'd smashed his nose - or if they had, they hadn't done anything about it. Didn't they care about how they fought enough to watch? Or, were they watching and waiting to see what would happen afterwards if no-one interrupted? It was hard to tell.

"You really need to stop that though," he murmured out loud, shifting in the bed they'd put him in, turning his face towards the wall. Hell, why not? The city was everywhere, wasn't it? Why shouldn't it hear him if he spoke to it in here? The idea made him want to laugh - or maybe that was the painkillers they'd given him. "I'm never gonna learn to fight anyone if you keep turning the battle room off if I get hurt. Pretty sure in the real world they don't just stop everything if you happen to get shot."

There was no response, but then, had he expected one? Cities didn't talk. Then again, most of them didn't open doors because they wanted to make you happy, or stop games because you were hurt and they wanted to look after you either - and that was a nice image. It was good to feel looked after, even if only by a city. It was a bit of a novelty in his life. His father hadn't exactly been trying for Dad of the Year. John shut his eyes, shock and painkillers combining now to create a pleasantly floaty feeling, and kept talking, allowing himself, just for now, to imagine it as a person.

"Don't get me wrong. 's good of you to try, an' I think Carson was glad you did. Unless I'm dying or something though, you'd probably better not. Everyone's gonna look at us funny if we're the group that keeps getting the battle room turned off. And if I _was _dying or something, old Woolsey or one of the others would turn things off. At least, I think they would."

Actually, the way things were going, maybe he couldn't be at all sure of that. Better not to dwell on it perhaps.

"The opening doors though," he added thoughtfully. "You can keep _that _up. Was useful t'find Teyla and the others I think. We all gotta know that stuff, even if Woolsey and the other adults think we don't. The more we talk, I reckon the more chance we can stop those things, y'know? They're nuts if they think it wouldn't help if we talked to each other. Everyone knows different stuff, and we can't help each other if we only get t' see each other when we're fighting, y'know?"

It seemed sensible, at least to him. He yawned, snuggling down into his pillow, careful not to nudge his poor swollen and bruised nose. "Anyway, I'm gonna sleep now," he decided drowsily. "They'll never let me out if I don't sleep, and God knows what they'll get up to back in the dormitory. Rodney'll blow things up again." Another yawn, and he settled, already starting to drift off. "G'night, city."

Numbed and dazed by the drugs, John slept, his mind floating in a world where cities could talk, and like you, and want to be liked. Above and around him, Atlantis hummed on.


	6. Carson 12

"...our checks are saying that the power levels are normal, there are no faults or problems that we can see. However, the system is persisting in over-riding the commands."

Richard Woolsey stared at Dr Lee, and fought what was certain to be an emerging headache. He had a lot of those here somehow. "You're telling me that _every_ child on this planet is now able to open _every_ door we have, no matter where it leads?"

"Essentially, yes," Dr Lee agreed meekly, checking his clipboard. "Somehow our security system to keep them in safe areas is... well, it's gone."

"Gone," Woolsey repeated, flatly. "Well then, there must be a fault."

"Not as far as we can tell, no." The other man sounded apologetic. "Everything that is _working_ is working perfectly. The monitoring is up, there are no alarms going off, no reported issues.. as far as we can tell everything is in perfect working order. It just... isn't working."

"One of them must have interfered with it then," Woolsey said, exasperated. If it wasn't one thing with these children, it was another.

"Um." And now Dr Lee sounded slightly reproachful as well as apologetic. "We_ did _check that. As far as we can see, there's nothing they could have done to cause it. Even if they'd managed to somehow break into the system - which is very strongly protected - we should be able to undo what they'd done. But there's nothing there to over-ride. Everything is set as it should be, it just.."

"..isn't working," Woolsey completed sourly. "So, you have_ no _way of fixing this.. bug, whatever it is?"

Dr Lee shifted unhappily from foot to foot. "We'll keep working on it?"

"And until then, we're swarmed by children who can go anywhere they like." Already a dreadful mental picture of some of the possible results was forming in Woolsey's head. "Do you have any idea of what some of these children can_ do_ given that kind of freedom?"

"Ah.." The look Dr Lee gave him suggested that he just might be humouring him. It didn't help. "I'm sure they won't break anything that can't be fixed."

"I'm not," Woolsey sighed, and stood up. Mentally he made a note to fill in another round of job applications that evening. Five years of patiently filling applications, without even the courtesy of _one_ response, but _someone_ had to offer him away off this godforsaken planet sooner or later. Preferably _before_ one of the children managed to blow the whole place up.

Dr Lee eyed him for a moment, expression anxious, as if thinking Woolsey himself might be the next thing to blow up. "We could combine some of the classes?" he suggested. "As we can't stop them mixing anyway? Get the groups working together here and there."

It sounded like a recipe for disaster. "How exactly would that help?" Woolsey demanded incredulously. "They're capable of doing incredibly stupid and dangerous things separately, and you want to put them_ together?_"

The other man shuffled as feet, looking as though he wished he hadn't spoken. "It would make it easier to keep an eye on all of them if they're in larger groups?" he suggested uncertainly. "And... perhaps it might be better to allow the kids to think that this is intentional?"

That actually made a little sense. Let the kids think they didn't _know_ why things were broken and the place might well collapse into anarchy. Woolsey shuddered at the thought of having to explain _that_ at his next report. He might hate his job, but that didn't mean he wanted to actually _lose_ it. "That might help," he agreed begrudgingly. "We do have enough taking similar classes, I suppose. Some won't overlap, but when they do and are on a similar level.."

"I'll let the others know. We'll rearrange the timetables," Dr Lee agreed hastily, sounding relieved. "And uh. We'll keep working on fixing it. When we can work out why it isn't broken."

He left with almost indecent speed, hurrying out before Woolsey could protest or complain further. Left behind, Woolsey gloomily contemplated the chance of the day ending badly, and reached for the latests job postings - demanded from earth, and duly sent through with the weekly supplies. There had to be _some _way of getting out of here.

* * *

-

**Carson**

Neither of them had wanted to leave the infirmary, but they hadn't been given the choice either way. Adults, who could be the kindliest and most patient people in the world while teaching, suddenly turned firm and impliable, shooing Elizabeth and Carson back to the dormitory as though they were infants. It mattered little that Carson was _used _to being in the Infirmary, or even that he had been the one to realise that John needed to go. Actual official doctoring was still adult stuff, kept to those who were thought to have, not just the knowledge, but the age and maturity to understand the ethical and moral implications of every action.

As it was the actions of the adults in Atlantis which had allowed John's nose to get broken in the _first_ place, that was a little hard to take. Still, Carson did as he was told, though he promised himself privately that once _he _was an adult he would make sure he could fix people when they needed it, no matter who wanted to order otherwise!

The pair of them had been deep in their thoughts, too much so to register that the corridors were somewhat noisier than usual. Giggles, and excited chatter came from rooms as they passed by, Atlantis seeming far more alive than it was usually. It wasn't until a child, who looked to be about seven or eight, came racing through the doors towards them, saw them, and did an abrupt turn-about, vanishing _back _through the doors, that they realised something might be amiss. They paused, glancing at each other.

"Those doors opened for him," Elizabeth said slowly, looking to Carson to confirm what she had just seen.

"It would seem so," Carson agreed, starting to frown a little. "I can't see him being old enough for them to open if he had no escort."

"Is it possible that he's..." she paused, unsure how to phrase it, "like you and John?" she completed delicately.

"From what I've been able to gather, it is a tendency inherent in some people." Five years of Rodney whining, and Radek more tactfully hinting that it would be nice to be able to do certain things for research purposes, had led Carson to look into just _why_ he and John might be able to do the things they could in Atlantis. Not that he'd got so far just yet be he was starting to look at it being genetic. "I suppose it is _possible_ but.. everything we have in the library here says it is very rare."

"Still, if they find anyone, I suppose here is where they end up being brought," Elizabeth reasoned. "Must be a new kid. Although he's going to get caught if he dashes about like that - he's more careless than John is even!"

"John isn't what you'd call careless," Carson defended. He started to walk again, half-thinking that they might catch up with the boy and warn him to keep a low profile. "He knows how to keep out of sight of those in charge, anyway."

Elizabeth gave him a disbelieving look. "Didn't you have to patch up him and Rodney a week ago when they decided to explore some of the abandoned rooms, and the roof nearly collapsed on them?"

"That was more... adventurous," Carson phrased it carefully. "Although, I wish they'd _listen_ when I tell them to rest." He opened the door carefully, not wanting to send the child fleeing again if he was on the other side.

A trio of nine year old girls stared at him, clearly abruptly interrupted in their conversation. He stared back for a moment, and then shut the door again carefully, turning back to Elizabeth.

"Either a whole lot of kids have suddenly acquired the ability to open doors," he commented, "or else something very strange is going on."

* * *

-

By the time they had reached their own dormitory, the "something very strange" had become near certainty. Not only were children everywhere they should not have been, but even the _adults_ seemed disinclined to do anything about it, behaving as though the shrieks of youngsters playing hide and seek through the city were perfectly normal.

Not that this was entirely believable. Most of their expressions seemed to suggest that they were gritting their teeth, reining in the urge to grab the misplaced children and march them back to their rooms, post-haste. But, for whatever reason, they pretended to ignore it, and so it went on.

They were greeted at the door by Aiden and Evan who, in the absence of anyone who should tell them otherwise, had taken on a kind of sentry duty at the door. As Aiden explained quietly, it wasn't that they wanted to be unfriendly to the other kids, but no-one wanted just _anyone_ busting in there. This was their room, and they figured it would be good to keep it that way.

It was a suggestion that made sense. Five years together had given them all an idea of personal space, and how to survive without killing each other. They already knew who would tolerate someone flopping down on their bed, and who would have a meltdown, who kept work around that shouldn't be interfered with in case it got messed up, and who kept work around that shouldn't be interfered with in case it exploded. Drop an excited seven year old or two into the middle of that, and it was likely to go bad fast.

Fortunately, Elizabeth saw that too. She was quick to organise a rota for minding the door - although she said firmly that she would leave such details to John once he was out of the Infirmary - and quick to lay down the rule that anyone from outside their group, coming in, ought to have the permission of her or John, and have an escort, at least until everyone got to know that they were okay. Carson relaxed. Things might be going weird outside their room, but when you had someone organised enough to take charge of things, really there wasn't such a need to worry about it.

"It wasn't me," Rodney said firmly, as they turned towards their own corner of the room. He and Radek were hunched over their laptops, the pair of them tapping away frantically. "Before you ask. It wasn't anything _I_ did while I was in there."

Carson blinked. "Steady on, Rodney," he said mildly. "No-one's accusing you."

"Yes, well," Rodney did not look entirely convinced, scowling at the pair of them. "People have a tendency to assume."

"The adults do not know what it is either," Radek added, not looking up from his machine. "They are sending emails to each other to say that they do."

"Yeah, they think that if we didn't believe they had the place under perfect control we'd all take over." Rodney snorted at that idea. "As though we thought they did anyway!"

"You're reading their emails?" Carson wasn't entirely certain he ought to approve of that. Admittedly, it wasn't as though they had made a habit of obeying the rule, but reading other people's messages seemed wrong somehow, like staring into someone's private life.

"_She_ told me to get into the network!" Rodney must have caught the note of disapproval there, because he looked up, flushing a little. "And I knew when you came back you'd ask me what it was, and then get impatient if I didn't know within five seconds of being asked!"

"Rodney," Elizabeth said, gently reproving. "You know I didn't ask you to do that."

Rodney flushed more deeply now, and pushed his laptop away, standing up abruptly. "Fine! Work it out yourselves then, as you clearly don't need me to help at all. I mean, it took _me _weeks of working out how the system worked so I could get into it without setting off alarms, but you're clearly so smart that you can do it without blinking, and-"

Carson recognised the frantic gesturing and rising voice as signs of an imminent meltdown, and sighed to himself. Rodney worked himself up so _easily_, and it was always worse on days when something had gone wrong and unsettled him. Between the battle room, John's injury, and the city acting so oddly, there had been a _lot_ to unsettle him today. "Have you found anything?" he asked, deliberately keeping his voice quiet and calm as a contrast to Rodney's. Get upset back at Rodney and you risked engaging in the emotional equivelent of nuclear warfare, with potential results which should be enough to make both parties back down, but somehow often didn't.

Rodney just tended to have that effect on people.

"No." Rodney glowered at him, but he hadn't stomped off, or gotten to the edge of tears, so that was something. Maybe he was improving. "I think it's the city again."

"What do you mean, it's the city again?" Carson started to ask, but Elizabeth was ahead of him already.

"You mean, you think it's doing it to please us? Or to please John and Carson?" she asked quickly.

"People ask things," Radek looked up from his laptop for the first time, "and the city, it is responding. But we are not always knowing who asked, or what they wanted."

"Hm," Carson absorbed that for a moment, thinking it over. "You know, my Mum used to tell us stories about people who weren't careful what they wished for."

"And they ended up coming to a horrible end, yes? Well, we're living there," Rodney informed him, curtly. "Just both of you try hard not to wish that you lived in a vinegar bottle."

It wasn't funny, not really, but Carson had to restrain himself from laughing at that comment, and Elizabeth's expression suggested she was doing similarly. Radek just looked confused.

"So, someone asked for the doors to stop locking?" Elizabeth asked, once she could keep a straight face. "Can you undo it?"

"No._ I'm_ not one of the city's favourites," Rodney said sourly, glancing at Carson with more than a touch of resentment. "I don't think you understand. This isn't just a case of resetting something, or reprogramming it. There's nothing _there_ to reset."

"The city has set it," Radek agreed. "And the city is not wanting to change back."

This time, Elizabeth glanced towards Carson. "Could you ask it?" she suggested.

"Yes, yes," Rodney cut in, before Carson could respond that he didn't know whether he could or not - the city seemed to have its _own _ideas on what people actually wanted. "But the questions is, not whether he could, but whether we _should._ The adults might be in a fuss over it, but I could certainly do without having to come and find him or John every time I need a door opening."

Carson hesitated. It sounded like an awfully reckless way to decide anything, but the truth was it _would _be easier if he didn't have to accompany the others whenever they needed to be out of bounds. And it was such a _little_ thing, and already done, so it wasn't as if they were really _changing_ anything more, just leaving it as it was now. "Bit late to stop the adults noticing now," he offered, tentatively. "And I'm not sure I know how to change it back anyhow."

Elizabeth looked indecisive, but after a moment she nodded. "We'll leave it then," she said, seeming to realise that without John to ask as co-leader she would have to make that call herself, "unless anything starts to go wrong that we haven't anticipated. And we'll leave people on the door to stop anyone just wandering in at any time. I don't like the idea, though, of us seeming unfriendly. If the doors are to stay open, we'll have to start visiting and talking to the other groups - get to know them better. It's all very well us being here to fight them in the battle room, but at the end of the day, we're all working towards the same cause."

She seemed a trifle uncertain still, new enough in her responsibilities to glance to them for confirmation. It was a good plan though, and Carson nodded quickly, seeing no problems. "Okay," he agreed, and, after a moment, the others followed suit. So it was decided.

* * *

-

John was sent back to them the next day. He looked somewhat the worse for wear, with a pale face and two black eyes, but for all Carson's attempts to make him rest insisted that he was doing just fine, thank you. Carson kept enough of an eye on him to ensure that he wasn't using the painkillers he'd been given as an alternative for lying down when he needed to, and other than that allowed him to get on with it. Sometimes, with John, you just had to give way a little.

After that, things seemed to have turned a corner suddenly. The group went from struggling in the battle room to winning - and winning repeatedly. That made John happy, and Elizabeth was happy because they were meeting and getting on with the other groups. Some of them seemed a little odd - Lucius Lavin's group, for example, only lasted one meeting with them before they all started making excuses to hurry the other way down a corridor when they met. Others they got on well with. John had new people to scuffle and work off some energy with when he needed to, Radek and Rodney had other scientists to show off at (though, to be fair, that was mostly Rodney), and even Carson had a new companion in his Infirmary lessons. It was odd at first to have someone to talk to who viewed biology as something other than a thing they should defy at all costs but... it was a good kind of odd. And Perna was pretty too, even if he couldn't say that to the others, or even think it to himself without growing suddenly hot with embarrassment.

Closest of all the groups though, was the group they had first fought, the one led by Teyla. The adults might not have worked out why the doors had refused to lock suddenly, but word had made its way around the kids, in rumour and whisper, that it was something to do with their group. It was information they might have preferred to keep to themselves, if only out of sheer embarrassment, but that the doors _had _stayed opened had allowed several younger siblings to find their way back to Teyla's group. There, despite several protests from those who were meant to be in charge, they stayed, and Teyla's group showed their gratitude at the chance to reunite by becoming firm friends.

It was a little uncomfortable at first, especially when John admitted that the order which had caused the whole affair had only really been an accident and a painkiller induced one at that, but more understandable when Carson had time to watch Jinto, Marta and Wex bouncing around the older members of their group. They were, quite clearly, adored, and Carson, observing, felt a sudden wrench for his own family back on earth. If only he hadn't been the youngest, if only he had a hope that one of them might come after him and join them. He didn't miss them so much when he forgot what family life had been like, but watching the Athosian group - ah, that was hard!

Of course, lessons and training for the battle room still occupied a good deal of their time, and there was no way they could ever have chance to meet _all_ the groups before they fought them. Group 8, for example, they first met in the battle room, and that was something that made them all eye the opposition curiously as they entered, not quite sure what they were to be up against.

John might be their best strategist, but even Carson could see that there was something strange about the way Group 8 positioned themselves. While most of them clustered as expected, working in a group to protect each other, one remained off to the side, alone and unprotected. It was as though they did not wish to associate with him, or, judging by the boy's glowering expression, as though _he _did not wish to associate with _them._

It seemed even stranger when the shooting started, and it quickly became obvious that he was by far the best fighter of the bunch. Rather than working to protect the others though, he seemed to be working entirely to attack John's group, and protect himself alone, moving quickly to avoid fire, and send off shot after accurate shot until John had to signal several of the others to take him down.

Even then, he might have won the game almost unaided, taking down the group John had sent after him, if it weren't for an accident. He had been anchoring himself to the wall every time he paused, hanging on to one of the handles in the wall with one hand and letting off several shots before taking off again. It made it hard to set a target on him, and it was only chance that led a dropped piece of equipment to go hurtling towards him. In the anti-gravity atmosphere, it continued travelling in whichever direction it had been headed, and it hit the boy at speed, knocking him forwards. Taken by surprise, he had no chance to release the handle he had been gripping, and Carson, glancing in that direction, saw his face crease in sudden pain as he wrenched his arm at an awkward angle. Aidan however, not so trained in recognising pain and injury, missed the occurence, and took advantage of the moment of respite to shoot the boy, effectively disabling him for the rest of the game.

After that, it was over quickly. Without the distraction of wondering where on earth the boy would shoot from _next_, it was an easy matter for the group to pull together and storm the other side. Victory was claimed, and John managed to shake hands with the leader of the other group, Smeadon, without rubbing it in too much, although that didn't seem to prevent Smeadon from looking rather sulky about the whole affair. No-one liked much being beaten.

Afterwards, Carson found himself watching them, only half-listening to the post-fight chatter, focusing instead on how the other team drifted off. If it had been their group, he would have noticed - or if not him, John or Elizabeth would have realised something was up - if someone was hurt. Even if they hadn't, someone would have reported it, or the injured person themselves would have come to seek help. No-one stayed hurt for long in their group.

In the other group though, it didn't seem to work like that. No-one noticed, or stopped, the boy who had wrenched his arm as he turned away from his group, heading off in another direction. It wasn't towards the Infirmary either, and yet Carson was certain, from the way he carried himself, that it had to be paining him badly.

He came to his decision just as the boy turned a corner, realising that if he didn't go after him _now_ the city could be such a maze that the likelyhood was high he might never find him.

"That one's hurt himself," he said matter-of-factly, interrupting a fervent discussion about whether the other group had been getting in each other's way by sticking too close together, "I'm going to go check him out."

He stated it, rather than bothering to ask permission of John or Elizabeth, already turning in the direction the boy had headed as he spoke. Still, it seemed to surprise everyone enough to derail the conversation completely.

"I know you mean well, Carson, but he might not thank you for helping him after we've just beaten them," Elizabeth warned.

"Weren't his own lot helping him?" And John apparently hadn't noticed the way the lad had secluded himself, locking himself off from help.

"Didn't seem to notice." Carson had his own opinion about folk who would treat members of their own group that way, but he kept that to himself for now. "His arm got a bad yank in there, and I reckon it won't be all right just like that. I'm going to go look at it."

He went before they could try to talk him out of it, picking up his pace in the hopes of catching the other boy up. Behind him, he could hear the group arguing over what was best, and distinctly caught the words "mother hen". His mouth set in a stubborn line, and he kept moving. If that was what they wanted to think, that was fine, but he wasn't going to be talked out of helping someone who needed it.

It was a few minutes before he heard the sound of feet behind him. A moment later John caught him up, matching pace with him easily. Carson glanced at him sideways, unsure if this was another attempt to tell him this was a bad idea.

John grinned though, and shrugged at the look, unconcerned. "Elizabeth sent me," he said cheerfully. "Worried you'll get beat up. Figured I could keep an eye on you."

"I'm only going to make sure he's okay," Carson said, though he was secretly a little relieved by the concern. It was, at least, better than wondering if he'd face an argument when he got back.

"Yeah, I know," John agreed. "But those guys looked pretty mad that we won, you know? People do weird stuff when they're mad. If you're going to walk into an ambush or something, we at least don't want you outnumbered too much."

It was a kindly-meant thought, and Carson didn't bother to argue with it, again focusing on moving in the direction he was certain the guy had been headed in. He had to have been moving pretty quickly - by the time they saw any sign they weren't alone in the corridors, even Carson was ready to give up and go back, starting to believe he had picked the wrong direction after all.

But they came around a corner and there he was, slouching against the wall at the far end. Grimly, Carson noted that he had been right - for all the lad had managed to put on a brave face in public, now he thought he was alone he was rubbing and kneading at his shoulder, trying desperately to ease the pain there.

He wasn't a small boy - Carson suspected he'd be able to take a couple in a fight, even without a weapon in his hands - but there was something wary about that pose. It reminded him of the watching stillness of rabbits in the hills at home, not seen for years now, resting for the moment, but ready to leap off at a moment's alarm.

Instinct made him touch John's shoulder, gesturing for his friend to stay where he was, before he stepped forward, and further down the corridor. He'd come to help the poor lad - he didn't need to start off by outnumbering him!

"Did you hurt yourself, lad?" Automatically he fell back on the accent of home as he moved closer, the soft scottish croon that could soothe and calm without even a touch of harshness in it. It was always stronger at these times, when he could sense someone hurt and needing a hand up. "I thought you did in the battle room. Came to see if you needed any help."

As he expected, the other boy startled when he knew he was seen, straightening into a more aggressive posture. "I'm fine." That was a growl, and behind him, Carson heard John take a hesitant step closer to him. He gave a slight shake of his head. _No, stay put for now._

"Like hell you're fine." Carson tried to make that sound firm rather than confrontational, and kept walking forward. What was the worst that could happen? He'd get hit? Happened all the time in practice, and couldn't even be hit very hard looking at that arm. It was a risk worth taking. "You yanked your arm. Why don't you let me take a look at it? I can help."

"I said I'm fine!" He sounded annoyed now, but Carson could see the way he was holding his arm close to his chest, guarding it, and it made him keep walking.  
"I don't want your help!" As Carson got closer, he seemed to realise that simply snapping at him wasn't going to scare him off, and took a step forward, moving threateningly. "What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?"

"Carson, get back!" And that was John, coming up behind him, protective as a watch-dog. "If he doesn't want help, just let him alone."

"I'm not going to let him alone when his arm's like that!" Carson snapped back, stubbornly. To the boy, he said, "If you want me to leave you alone, you're going to have to let me look at it. I'm not going until you do."

For a moment it seemed the boy was going to hit him, and Carson could feel John shift beside him, ready to dive on him if he did. A moment, and then it seemed to pass. Sounding puzzled, as much as angry, he asked, "Why?"

Carson answered after only a second's hesitation, giving the simplest answer and the most honest one. "Because I can see it hurting," he said, "and it bothers me."

"It does," John confirmed that, still poised next to him lest the other should make a sudden move. "He's telling the truth. Best give in and let him see to it, 'cause he doesn't let you go until you do." He spoke with the voice of long experience, and Carson twitched a smile, for he was the one most often nagged, fretted and bullied into resting or getting help when he refused to admit he needed it.

"It bothers you?" The boy's face twisted into a frown, as though he still couldn't quite grasp that.

Carson gestured to his arm. "Can we discuss it while I'm seeing to that? There's really no reason for it to be hurting you so badly. I can at least look at it, see what you did to yourself."

It took a long moment, but then he nodded, lowering himself to sit on the floor. Carson breathed a sigh of relief, quickly crouching down beside him. Whatever else happened, at least he could try to fix this.

He probed the shoulder with quick, clever fingers, trying to be as gentle as possible. It felt as though it was dislocated, and, oh, that was bad, because what chance was there of ever convincing this lad that he needed to go to the Infirmary?

"You'd think your own lot would help you out a bit." That was John, still standing as he looked quizzically down at the pair. Carson was glad of the distraction to his patient - careful as he was being, what he was doing likely still hurt.

"They're not 'my lot'." The reply was sullen, but he was at least sitting still under Carson's ministrations. "Just got stuck with them. Smeadon's an idiot."

"Huh!" John seemed unsure how to take that, quiet for a moment as he digested it. "You don't get on then."

"They got lumbered with me after I got picked up. They don't like me, I don't like them. We avoid each other, and it works out. Any more stupid questions?" He shifted uncomfortably under Carson's hands. "Are you nearly done?"

"Nearly." Carson made a decision. It was either deal with this now, himself, or leave it untreated. While the first option might not usual be his preferred way to go, it was infinitely better than the second. "This next bit's going to hurt, but then you'll feel much better. Okay?"

The response wasn't much more than a grunt. "'kay."

Knowing what to do and actually doing it were two different things, and there was a bad minute when Carson was afraid it wasn't going to pop back into place. The boy made a strangled noise of pain - something that wasn't quite a yell, wasn't quite a scream - but somehow managed to stay still, and Carson focused, and pulled, knowing he got only one chance to get this right.

And then it was done. Carson pulled at it, desperately trying to shift it from where it _was_ to where it _should _be. He felt it move beneath his fingers, and push at it now, shifting it back into the socket. It made a noise that he found himself wondering if everyone else heard – a_ 'clunk'_ as it settled back into place. He let himself breathe out and probed around a second to make sure it was in place before he sat back. "That's it," he said, surprised to realise he was sweating from the effort. "Should feel better now."

The boy gave him a disbelieving look before hesitantly moving his arm, rotating it cautiously. From the way his expression shifted rapidly to surprise and relief, what Carson had done had worked. "Oh," he said, clearly taken aback. "Thanks!"

"It's what I do." Carson scrambled back to his feet, trying to hide the fact that the effort had left him feeling a little shaky. "You'll want to check in with the Infirmary though. It'll still be swollen for a while, and they can give you something to help with the pain."

"No, it's better now." The boy seemed disinclined to take the advice, still testing the sore arm as he got up. "But thanks."

"Hey!" Seeing he was about to head off again, it was John who stopped him. "Why don't you walk back with us a bit? Your group might be idiots, but we can always use another good guy." He grinned and, Carson reflected, John was _good_ at that grin, as friendly and unthreatening as a puppydog.

Still, the other lad didn't seem too keen. "I don't need a group." He wasn't snapping it now at least, but nor did he seem inclined to be their new best friend. "I do fine on my own."

Carson refrained from pointing out that coping 'on his own' had resulted in him walking around with a dislocated shoulder, and let John talk him around.

"Sure you do. But that's no reason not to be friends, right?" John suggested, his voice easy and relaxed. "Everyone does better if we work together. Hey, I don't think I caught your name?"

"Ronon." He seemed suspicious still - of what, Carson wasn't sure - but he'd fallen into step beside them. It was a start at least.

"Right, well, it's good to meet you, Ronon," John said agreeably. "I'm John, and this guy here who fixed your arm is Carson. He finds out when people are injured and bugs them til they let him fix it. I figure everyone needs a hobby."

"Excuse me?" Carson made a face at him at that, but Ronon didn't seem to realise that he was supposed to laugh.

"So," John made another attempt, realising his joke had fallen somewhat flat, "whereabouts are you from, Ronon?"

"Sateda." It was as though they'd gotten as far as getting them to walk with them, but couldn't force him to talk. His answers were given begrudgingly, kept as short as possible.

Carson glanced at him sideways, knowing that John was struggling. "Are you hungry?" he suggested, trying for another way. "I know the battle room can make you work up an appetite." And injuries could result in shock, which could be best treated by upping your bloodsugar a bit, but he suspected that giving _that_ as a reason could result in another round of 'I'm fine's.

It seemed to work where the other questions hadn't. Ronan brightened so visibly that Carson had to wonder whether his avoiding his group had included mealtimes. "You guys have food?"

"Yeah, back in our room," John agreed, quickly picking up on Carson's lead. "Must be about time for dinner now. Shall we head back?"  


* * *

-

"He followed us home," John said, and Carson was hard-pressed not to laugh. "Can we keep him?"

Ronon was sat at the table, working his way steadily through a plate of food. Carson and John _had_ been doing the same until Elizabeth had approached. A glance at her expression had got the pair to their feet, moving quickly to ward her off. They didn't want their new friend scared off before they'd even got a meal down him.

She looked at them, her expression not quite angry _yet_ but verging on it. "I thought we talked about this!" she remonstrated, keeping her voice down low enough that their guest wouldn't hear. "We had a discussion, where we decided to be careful about who we let in, remember?"

"Yeah, we said the rule was to ask one of us," John agreed. "I asked me if I could let him in, and then I said yes. Procedure followed. Besides," he added, seeing Elizabeth on the edge of snapping, "that was for the _dorms_. We never said we were blocking off the dining room too."

She folded her arms, glaring at him now. "And were you intending on letting him into the dorms?"

"Er." Directly challenged, John shuffled his feet. "Well..."

Carson decided that it was time to pour oil onto troubled waters before either of them lost their tempers further. "I know there are rules, Elizabeth, and we're both very sorry for breaking them," he said quietly, hoping that John wasn't in an argumentative enough mood to correct that, "but the poor lad seems to have nowhere else to go. We couldn't just leave him wandering!"

Elizabeth didn't look as ready to shout at him as she had at John, but she still wore a distinctly exasperated expression. "Carson, he has his _own_ group to eat with. He's not some stray puppy!"

There was no way to explain that while the boy currently beating Rodney to a second helping looked strong enough to take on any two of _them_ now, in the corridor he had indeed seemed as wary and vulnerable as any frightened animal. Carson flushed, but help his ground. "He can't go to them," he insisted stubbornly. "He doesn't fit with them."

"And it's not as though he can't help us out," John chimed in. "Come on, Elizabeth, you saw him in there! Imagine if he were on our side!"

"I'm imagining just what his group are going to think of us if they discover you're trying to take their best fighter," Elizabeth said sharply. "John, you can't _do_ this! Not when I've just managed to start convincing them all we want to be friendly!"

Carson almost told her what Ronon's group could do if they wanted to be annoyed about it, still inwardly furious at the idea of a group that could so easily walk away from an injured member. John beat him to it though, taking a gentle grip of Elizabeth's arm and pulling her away.

"Elizabeth, listen to me.." Carson caught a fleeting grin, and then John led her out of hearing distance, lowering his voice as he spoke. Carson relaxed a little, and wandered over to sit down. He trusted that grin. Often, it meant that John was about to embark on some hideous piece of mischief, but usually it _also_ meant that John was about to get his way, one way or another. Carson could leave it to him.

Rodney was scowling as Carson rejoined the others, having apparently already managed to take a dislike to Ronon. The boy in question, however, was still eating quite calmly, ignoring the glower directed at him.

"She doesn't want me to stay." He said it matter-of-factly as soon as Carson had sat down. "That's fine. I'll leave as soon as I've eaten this."

He had heard? That, or he had guessed, and either way Carson found himself suddenly hot with embarrassment. Even if Elizabeth were angry, he was certain she wouldn't have given that impression on purpose to a visitor.

"She doesn't really mean it," he said uncomfortably. "We're just working out... what we're doing with ourselves really, now the doors are open. It's nothing personal. John will talk her round."

"It doesn't matter." Ronon didn't seem angry or upset about it, accepting it perfectly calmly. "I told you, I do okay on my own."

"That because your own group don't like it when you steal all the bread either?" The sour comment came from Rodney, who was eying the empty bread plate mournfully. That, thought Carson, probably explained the dirty looks he'd been sending.

"Rodney!" he reproved, more despairing than surprised by now. It was difficult to make Rodney remember the niceties of socialisation - just the little things, like not insulting people every other sentence.

Had Ronon had a quicker temper, they might have had quite a scuffle keeping him away from Rodney, but he regarded the other boy as if it simply weren't worth the hassle of getting angry. "I don't have a group of my own," he said, after a moment. "I just have one they stuck me with."

"That because you ate your own?" Rodney asked morbidly, poking at his soup with a spoon. "Look, it's just not the same without bread. There's nothing to mop it up with."

"Rodney, be nice!" Was _everyone_ in a mood to make things as awkward as possible today? It was starting to seem so.

"I'm just saying that he's got to have done something pretty heinous if his own group don't even want to hang out with him, and I don't see why we should be stuck with him!" Rodney snapped. "Who knows what the guy's done if they don't want anything to do with him? I mean, you don't see any _of _our group getting blocked out."

"I would not be so sure if you keep on with the talking," Radek murmured next to him, attention seemingly on the soup, and Rodney turned to glare at him, distracted.

Ronon set his spoon down on the table with a clink, and looked steadily at Rodney for a moment. "I'm not in a group with my own people, because my own people were taken by the Wraith that decided it would be fun to see how far and fast a kid could run with them chasing it. I'm _here_ because your people found me, picked me up, and decided that _they_ didn't need a kid's permission before they sent him to go help save the world. And the group they dumped me on don't like me because I don't obey stupid orders, and I came close to breaking Smeadon's arm when he decided to teach me a lesson to prove a point." He stood up. It wasn't an overtly threatening gesture, and yet it somehow made obvious to most of the table that yeah, Ronon was big, and he was strong, and it wasn't a fight anyone really wanted to try just for the hell of it. "Any more questions you'd like to ask?"

Rodney opened his mouth, as though to speak, and was cut off when Radek discretely dug an elbow into his side. _He_ knew when it was wise to stay quiet, even if Rodney didn't. The table was quiet, some people shocked, some people nervous, none seeming to have the words to tackle a story like that.

That was when John sauntered back over, and dropped into a chair beside Ronon as though nothing were wrong at all in the world. "It's sorted, you're staying," he announced, as though it was all really that easy, and took no more than those words to resolve. Seemingly oblivious to the table's silence, Rodney's scowl, Ronon's stance - everything in fact, that should have clued him in to something being _wrong_, he reached for a bowl of soup, pulling it towards him.

"We'll have to sort something out for a bed, maybe work something out with cushions or something for now," he went on, spoon clinking against the bowl. "Still I expect we can make it comfy enough. We'll take turns sleeping on the floor if we can't find another way."

Looking a little taken aback, Ronon lowered himself back into his seat, just as John reached out and, not finding what he was looking for, looked up from his soup finally.

"Hey, who ate all the bread?"

* * *

-

Somehow, it worked. Carson was never exactly sure _how_ it worked, when all paths had seemed to lead to one great big fight, but somehow it did, and maybe that was John's gift. He didn't fix bodies, as Carson did, make computers and machines sit up and beg as Rodney and Radek did, or even talk people around in the way Elizabeth did. He just stated the way that things were going to be, and, however impossible they were, the world found itself re-ordering to _make_ them possible. It wasn't only cities that re-arranged themselves to the way John thought they should look. People did it, in just the same way, and half the time without even realising that they were doing so.

Carson wondered if _John_ realised it even. It might be an awfully dangerous thing if he didn't.

It wasn't all easy, of course. Ronon got on well enough with Carson and with John, but he seemed to regard most of the others as things to be tolerated, rather than made friends with. Rodney still avoided the boy, scowling every time he so much as glanced in that direction - though goodness knows what he had against him, other than that early bread theft. The adults seemed taken aback by the unexpected addition to their class, but seemed to decide to leave well enough alone. After a few days of them drawing lots to decide who should sleep on the floor for a night, an extra bed appeared in their room. If that weren't some kind of silent approval, Carson wasn't sure what _was. _

Smeadon's group were the real problem, but then Elizabeth had anticipated that. They may not have particularly appreciated Ronon while they had him, but _not_ having him was disasterous for their turns in the battle room, and they were soon losing regularly. More concerningly, they seemed to pass their resentment on to others, and not only the members of that group, but of Cowan's group also, started to glare at them in class, and when they passed in the hallways. John, realising the danger, gave the order that no-one was to go around alone, just in case they tried anything. It seemed to work.

In any case, Carson had other things to take his attention at that point. The adults had seemed to take moving the classes together as a reason to introduce new lessons, and move them up a level in what they were already studying, and he viewed this with mixed emotions. The day he, John, and several others had been led into a room filled with small crafts and told they were to take flying lessons had been met with complete delight by John, but not so much by him. It was far too far out of his comfort zone, there were too many controls, and he'd been frozen, afraid to touch any of them without taking five minutes to think about it, in case he crashed. Aeroplanes were one thing, he could trust flying in them, but they were flown by steady-headed adults, not little boys who had no real idea what they were doing. Later, when John had bounced back to the others, full of boasts about how high and fast he'd gone, Carson had tried not to throw up.

On the other hand, the focus in his Infirmary lessons was something his quick brain seized on, eager to absorb the new information, especially now he had a companion to learn with. From learning the basics in lessons, and trying to divine the rest from books himself, they moved now to _real_ learning - observing from time to time, seeing _how_ things should be done rather than just hearing it described. Perhaps twelve was the magic age where adults believed you could be trusted to watch such things without crying or passing out. It made little sense to Carson, and seemed to be just as unexplainable to Perna, but it was a judgement neither of them were likely to argue with.

The other new lesson was even more welcome, for now they were studying DNA, viruses, the causes as well as the cures for illnesses. It was introduced with a cautiousness which suggested that they were expected to struggle and fail at first - the adults seemed surprised when their two young pupils took to it like ducks to water. Carson couldn't explain to them the driving _need_ to succeed. If you could grasp this you could fix things - not just piece them together and pray when they were broken, when the illness had already taken hold - but fix them so they never happened in the first place. If you could understand how things work, understand _properly_, down to the tiniest detail, then you could change them so that they happened in the way they needed to.

That was a promise that sent both Carson and Perna far in their lessons, and further in their private times in the labs, when the adults left them to work unobserved. Officially, it was so that they could revise the work done in class, but unofficially, left alone with equipment many adult scientists might dream of having, the pair could try things that the adults would never think of suggesting. In part too, that might be because they were adults, with firmly established ideas already of what was and wasn't possible. Children without such ideas were free to try, get things wrong, screw it up, and maybe, just maybe, discover things that shouldn't be possible.

He was hoping the How and Why of the way the city reacted to him and John would be one of those things. The explanation that their gang had gotten too used to giving over the last few years _'it just likes them'_ wasn't logical, wasn't _scientific_. There had to be more to it than that, some difference in them that he could break down and understand. And what you could understand you could control, you could maybe even replicate in somebody else. At least, he hoped so.

The enthusiasm with which he suggested the idea to the others was enough to convince them to allow him to take blood samples, although, keen as Rodney was, he lingered suspiciously until he saw that Carson actually knew _how_ to do that. After that it was a matter of studying, examining the samples, borrowing books, and struggling through reading that no twelve year old should be able to grasp, searching for that key moment, the lightbulb that might suddenly light up and show where he needed to go.

It might have escaped the attention of the adults, but such intent study could not escape the attention of his classmate. Perna restricted herself to shy glances at first, which were returned by Carson's own quick glances, for somehow it was difficult to know just how to start talking to a pretty girl who you _hadn't_ known since you were seven. Harder, when the conversation you wanted to draw her into involved the likely inheritance factors involved in a city's responsiveness to humans. Carson had a hunch, backed up by the fact that the others pretended to fall asleep every time he tried to go into detail, that it might not be the most interesting subject to start on for most people.

But Perna wasn't most people, any more than Carson was, and if he didn't know how to start things then sooner or later she was going to. She watched, she waited, and, when it became obvious that he didn't quite seem able to find the words to start a conversation, she asked him instead.

"What are you looking at?"

Carson startled, and looked up, surprised and delighted all at once that she'd asked. "It's uh. The city seems to respond in different ways to different people - other Ancient technology does also, but we don't seem to understand the _why_ properly behind any of it." He gestured at his latest book, a tome borrowed from the library. "We just understand that it responds to some people, and that it doesn't seem to be behaviour based - the people it responds to aren't _doing_ anything different, so it has to be something inherent in them that it's reacting to, so uh.." He made the mistake of meeting her eyes, and felt himself flush, starting to grin nervously without meaning to. Sometimes being twelve could be _awful._ "..so that's what I'm trying to find," he finished in a hurry, hoping she hadn't noticed - but then how could she _not_ have noticed?

She was looking interested though, and that just made him grin even more stupidly, shifting from foot to foot. "May I see?"

He stood back from the microscope so quickly that it was probably a wonder he didn't manage to knock it off the desk. "Be my guest. I.. my notes are there too, if you want to look at them. I've been trying to pull out what we already know and go from there."

"You've done a good deal," Perna observed, and Carson was glad she was too busy looking at his work to see his expression. It really wasn't fair that a girl could have that effect on anyone. Elizabeth never did, but then, Elizabeth was too much one of them to count.

"What have you been working on?" he asked in turn, looking back over at Perna's own pile of work and research, which included several books he didn't recognise. They hadn't come up in lessons at all, but then, neither were the ones he was reading.

She glanced up from reading through his notes, seeming to have the same internal debate over how to explain as he had had. "Do you remember the lessons on how Wraith affect the body when they attack?"

Carson nodded soberly, his grin vanishing. Those hadn't been pleasant lessons, with photos of victims both living and after they had passed, and detailed explanations of just how the body's functions were found to have broken down in the post mortems following. He'd had nightmares following - it was the only time that he had wondered if perhaps they weren't still too young for what they were being taught. There were things he didn't want to think about, but they were things that he knew, as a doctor, he might one day have to try to heal.

He hadn't told the others. Even if he'd been able to explain the full horror to them, it wasn't theirs to deal with, not just yet anyway.

But Perna was smiling at him, moving back to her desk, and he followed. "My people have spent years studying, trying to create an immune response which would stop the Wraith being able to have that effect when they attacked. If they could do so, the attack would do nothing."

If they could do so, the Wraiths' attack would effectively be harmless. The fear of them attacking earth would vanish away - it would still be _bad,_ as any military strike would be, but without that gut-gripping horror of a weapon they had no real means of countering. They could _fight_ an ordinary enemy, Carson was certain.

If they could do that, everyone would be able to go home.

"Have they found one?" he asked hopefully. "Or, are they close?"

Perna lost her smile and shook her head. "The last scientists working on it were all killed," she admitted flatly. "They are heroes on my world - they were working on it knowing that attack would come, hoping that they could complete it first and... they could not. But their notes are preserved."

Carson's imagination provided too vivid a picture of how that might be, not trying to decipher things as slowly and comfortably as they were here, but working under pressure, conscious that if you could not complete in time it would not just mean your death, but that of those dear to you. And then.. not being able to, your effort and need meaning nothing, because sometimes the world didn't bow to what you wanted to happen. Sometimes the cure didn't arrive just in the nick of time.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, and meant it. If that happened on earth.. but no, better to not even think that.

"I've been working from their notes," Perna continued. "It's not easy, but.. I believe I can see what they were trying to do." She looked at him gravely. "If I'm right, they were very, very close. I just need to take it a stage further, the stage they could not complete."

She made it sound easy, but even for a fully trained team of adults it would have been formidable. For a twelve year old, however bright, it was laughable even to attempt it. But then, wasn't Carson's task also?

She seemed to hesitate a moment, and then smiled again, a nervous, shy sort of smile before she pushed one of her books gently in his direction. "Would you like to help?"

After that they worked together, a few days on one project, a few days on the other. Both were impatient for results, although older, wiser minds might have laughed at how quickly they expected them. To an adult, a few months was nothing, to a twelve year old, an eternity. To Carson, however, it made sense. Should the project Perna's people had sacrificed so much for be completed at last, it would mean going home, and no more Wraith to worry about - or at least, not so much. Should it not be completed in time, then at least Carson's project could give more people the means to fight, to fly the little craft John loved and he hated, to use whatever the city and the Ancients could provide to try and fight the enemy back.

Maybe, a morbid part of his mind whispered, it was that means to fight that would in the end buy them the few extra hours which Perna's people had never had, the vital time to complete their work rather than dying with it unfinished and useless.

Carson prayed that it would never come to that.


	7. Rodney 12

"You want me to take on _another_ of them?" The horror in Woolsey's voice at the very idea was tangible.

"If we can get her and her parents to quit being pains in our respective asses and let her go." As usual, O'Neill sounded more dryly amused than he did sympathetic. "A genius on a safe planet being worth two on one that's about to get invaded and all that."

"Yes, but.." Woolsey protested, letting that comment pass him by for now. "Do you know how much trouble the _first _one causes? He takes security protocols as a challenge, and I'm not at _all_ sure that he's not responsible for the door codes suddenly failing to operate. You didn't say I'd have to take on another!"

"There's this thing that happens with time," O'Neill commented, "it has this tendency to keep moving. Couldn't tell until she was seven that she'd fly through her exam. You don't have to worry though. This one managed to get through the sanity-checker - whoops, I mean personality test."

It wasn't particularly soothing, if he'd even meant it to be. "And her brother didn't?"

"Oh, her brother flunked the personality check good and hard," O'Neill said cheerfully. "Flags up all over the place that he was going to be an awful kid. Can't think what they were doing to let him through. Glad _I _don't have to deal with him."

Woolsey gritted his teeth, and did his best not to rise to the bait. Seven years should have made that easier, but no. "Please tell me that you don't have any relatives of the Sheppard boy to send up with her."

"You're in luck there. Kid's only got one sibling, and he's older." There, at least, O'Neill let him off. "Scored highly, but not highly enough. You know how they only want the cream up there." He grinned, unable to resist teasing. "I'm sure that's why they sent you up there to run the place after all."

"But -this one doesn't want to come?" Woolsey still clung to that faint hope, the chance he might get out of having another McKay on his hands. "I didn't think they got a choice in the matter."

"They don't usually," O'Neill admitted, grimacing slightly for the first time. "Bit of a special case with this one. Parents didn't want their first kid to fly the nest - for some reason they actually _like _dealing with all his little weirdnesses. They come for the second, the daughter's howling that she doesn't want to go, and they kick and yell and threaten us with the press if we take her against her will. Not that _that_ would usually stop anyone, but it seems they've been spending the last five years preparing an almighty shitstorm for this very scenario. Turns out awkward kids come from awkward parents - _there's_ a surprise."

"So, if we take her, there's a risk we'll get so much fuss raised about what's happening that we won't be able to take any more children?" It was the best news Woolsey had heard all week - no, all _month_ - and he felt himself starting to smile slowly.

"Unless we can convince the kid she's going to a land of rainbows, ponies and fluffy bunny rabbits," O'Neill acknowledged. "So, we need big brother to come have a talk with her. Do the wise older sibling thing."

"And you think that this will convince her that she _wants_ to come?" Woolsey asked doubtfully. If he were assured that he had an older sibling of McKay's type waiting for him on some out of the way planet, he'd be trying to hitch-hike onto the first fast spaceship to another _galaxy. _

Oh wait. He already _was_ trying to hitch-hike onto the first fast spaceship to another galaxy. He just hadn't found one that would pick him up yet.

"Well, our other option of kidnapping her and telling her parents she'd mysteriously died in the night got nixed as unethical, and probably unbelievable," O'Neill said. "So, last option!"

"Fine," Woolsey surrendered with bad grace. "I'll arrange for the boy to come back for a visit." It probably wouldn't work anyway. He _hoped_ it wouldn't work. The idea of dealing with _two_ McKay children was enough to give him a week-long migraine.

He brightened, hopeful for a minute. "Is there any mail for me back there?"

"Let's see." O'Neill appeared contemplative for a moment. "There's a couple of parcels of comic books again, what feels like another sweater for young Beckett, I think there were some cookies with that but someone took them.."

"You take the children's cookies?" Annoying as they were, Woolsey was briefly appalled at the thought.

"Well, we're hardly going to wait to pass them through with the rest," O'Neill said reasonably. "The amount of time it takes us to get them to you, they'd have turned into a new form of life. Besides, Beckett's mother makes these really good ones with oats and-"

"But was there anything for me?" Woolsey interrupted desperately, feeling the subject start to slip away from here.

"Oh. No. Sorry." O'Neill smiled, looking completely unapologetic. "No job offers today. Looks like you're stuck there just a little longer.."  


* * *

-

It had been going on for _months_ now. Rodney, of course, had seen it from the start, and hated it even then, but of course no-one listened to him. No, they just kept on going off with more and more people, letting the group get bigger and bigger, and never pausing to think about whether anyone else mattered.

Well, fine then. He didn't need them - at least, not as much as they needed him. Just see how it was when they needed something brilliant sorting out and there was no-one there to sort it for them.

Of course, it didn't take long.

"Rodney, did you finish those calculations?"

He ignored John, staring at his laptop screen as though he had suddenly and unexplicably gone deaf.

A moment later, a finger prodded him in the back in an annoyingly persistant sort of fashion. "Hey, Rodney, did you manage to work it out? Only if you _could_ put a motor on the skateboard, I think you could work out a way to balance on it and shoot and then-"

"He will not be answering you," Radek offered from a bed away. "He has a sulk."

Oh, now, _that_ was just beyond bearing. "I do _not_ have a sulk!" he snapped, roused from his screen. "I just happen to be sick of people only being bothered to talk to me when they want something fixing or solving!"

John stared at him as though he'd gone insane, sitting down on the bed behind him - crumpling the sheets, Rodney noted peevishly, and they were _his_ sheets to crumple, not John's. "We talk to you all the time, Rodney!"

"You do_ not!_" Rodney retorted, feeling the great pool of miserable jealousy well up inside him. "You're always off with Ronon and Teyla, finding better ways to beat each other up!"

John looked stunned by the accusation. "We're the fighters, Rodney," he said slowly, carefully. "That's what we _do._ And when I fight with you, you always claim I've caused you some grievous injury, and go off to look for Carson!"

"Yeah, well, Carson's too busy off discovering girls to talk to anyone else!" Rodney said heatedly, too angry to listen to reason and calm down.

Carson looked up from his book, catching the sound of his name. "Excuse me?"

"And Elizabeth never comes away from her paperwork for long enough to talk to anyone, and Radek.." Rodney hesitated, running dry in his stream of accusations. "Radek plays chess with people."

"So do you," Radek pointed out mildly, seemingly unbothered by this outbreak of emotion.

"Yes, but that's _different!_" Rodney protested. "The point _is_ you all stopped talking to m- each other!"

"What's gone wrong this time?" True to his description, Elizabeth _had_ been working on paperwork, but the noise drew her. Noise _usually_ meant something had either gone wrong, or was _about_ to go wrong.

"Rodney has a sulk," Radek informed her with the same serene cheerfulness. "He says it is because no-one is talking to him, but mostly, it is because Samantha Carter is not talking to him."

"It is _not_!" Rodney denied, flushing angrily at the unfairness of that.

"It is _true,_ Rodney!" Radek retorted, raising his own voice a little now. "And if you are wanting her to be talking to you, maybe you should not be calling her an idiot, or _maybe_ you should be apologising when she is right! Normal people do not view this as a compliment, Rodney!"

"I'm sorry?" Elizabeth looked confused, unsure what exactly she had stepped into.

"Girl trouble," John informed her wisely. It wasn't a secret to anyone with eyes that Rodney had fallen for the leader of Group 1. Unfortunately, it also wasn't a secret that he chose to display his affection in the worst possible manner. Pulling on her pigtails would probably have been better, if she had had pigtails.

"It is _not_ girl trouble!" Rodney pushed his laptop away, furious now. "I make a perfectly reasonable complaint about the fact that you all only have time to talk to me when you want something fixed and you- you-"

"...connect it with the fact that you had a fight with Sam again. I know, it sucks," John said sympathetically. "Look, come try out the skateboard and we'll sort it out."

As ways of soothing upset moods, it probably wasn't the best. Rodney stood up, pink with temper, and Carson looked up from his book again, unsure if he should try to calm things down a little before they headed out of control.

They were interrupted, however, before Rodney could throw a _real_ tantrum, by the sound of someone politely clearing their throat at the door. "Rodney McKay," a polite, adult voice called over. "Could you come with me, please?"

Annoyance turned quickly to guilt, and Rodney looked over, startled, wondering what he'd done wrong now. It was always possible that they'd finally noticed his happy traipsing through the city's computer system, but then, if they were _going_ to notice that, it seemed more likely that it would have come to their attention ages ago. It wasn't as though he'd done anything particularly reckless lately, no more so than usual anyway.

Judging by their expressions, the others were similarly caught off-guard. "Best go," John advised in a whisper after a moment. "Can't be too bad if it's only Dr Lee."

"All right for you to say!" Rodney retorted in a low voice. Getting into trouble would just be a perfect part of what was already looking to be a bad day. It was true though, that Dr Lee was one of the more inoffensive of the adults, and it wasn't as though he had much of a choice in any case. Reluctantly he followed the man out, still searching his conscience as he was led away from the others, through the city's passageways.

"Did something blow up?" he ventured after a minute or so of walking, when Dr Lee had given no more of an explanation about where they were going and why. "If it did, it's probably due to conditions in the labs again. They're nowhere near temperature-controlled enough, and I don't think I can possibly be blamed if things go wrong when we're not controlling key conditions!"

"Hm?" Dr Lee looked surprised, though perhaps he shouldn't have been. It wasn't as though things blowing up was an _infrequent_ occurrence, especially around Rodney. "Oh, not this time. It's your sister."

"Jeannie?" And now it would have been hard for Rodney to be more confused. He still wrote to his sister, of course, and she wrote back, her carefully scrawled missives folded in with his parents' letters. Still, he couldn't imagine why anyone _here_ would be interested in her. If he weren't related to her, he would probably find her pretty boring, so everyone else almost certainly must. "Did she write something in a letter that she shouldn't have?" he guessed, baffled. Heaven knows how else they would know anything at all about her.

"No, no." Dr Lee shook his head quickly. "She's passed her test to join us here, but she's reluctant to come. We just need you to have a little word with her."

"_Jeannie's _passed? But she's not old enough!" The picture in Rodney's mind still was that of a blonde, rather annoying, toddler, who could be relied upon to do whatever was most likely to get him into trouble. It took a minute for him to realise the second part of what the doctor had said. "I'm going _home_?"

"Well, close enough," Dr Lee agreed. "Back to Earth, at least, though not actually back to your house. I believe it's in Canada, yes? A little far for a visit of an hour or so. We've arranged a meeting point."

"And my parents too?" Rodney demanded, a little stunned. After a few years you got used to the idea that Earth, and the family associated with it, was something you wouldn't see again for a long long time. To have a visit dropped on you with so little warning was hard to take in.

"I believe so, at least briefly," the doctor agreed mildly. "I understand that they're anxious to see how you are." He glanced down at his young charge. "Of course, while you are on Earth, confidentiality as to where you've been staying, and what you've been doing will apply," he added, a little anxiously, as though just realising that needed to be spelt out.

"I promise not to tell them that you took me through a gate which transported me to another planet, in a different galaxy, where we're training to fight man-eating aliens," Rodney agreed, rolling his eyes. "Not that I think they would believe me anyway." Honestly, adults could be so _stupid_ at times. "We _are_ going back through the gate?"

"You are," Dr Lee confirmed. "Somebody will meet you on the other side - at least they sent a communication saying that they would." He looked worried again. This kind of thing was hardly classed as usual.

As it happened, it all went fairly smoothly - surprisingly so, in fact. Rodney had been used to most organised events devolving into a chaotic mess, but here, everyone seemed to stick to the plan. Dr Lee walked with him to the stargate, and on the other side, a group of people were waiting for him to come through. One of them bundled him to a car, and, before he even really had chance to marvel at how _different_ Earth looked from Atlantis, they were at their destination. No-one got lost, no-one got hurt - nothing went wrong at all really.

Of course, John wasn't with them. Maybe _that _was the difference.

He wasn't sure what he expected when they led him in to see his family. He had a clear picture of them in his mind still - tall father, cuddly mother, squirmy sticky baby sister. That hadn't changed in the five years he'd been away.

But the people _had_. His parents seemed smaller somehow, and yet younger than he thought they should be in his own mind. Of course, to a seven year old, any adult at all was ancient. Now, he looked at them and was surprised by how much younger than some of the adults at school they were. And his sister - his sister had turned into a _person! _Not a giggly baby who he half-equated to the cat in terms of brains and behaviour, but a proper little girl, clutching at his father - their father's hand.

For a moment they stared at each other, half-shy, him lingering near the door, them clustering together. What did you say to someone you'd only communicated with by letter for the last five years?

Then with a noise that sounded like a sob his mother broke away towards him, lifting him into an embrace, hugging him so hard it felt as though his ribs were being crushed. "Meredith!" And it felt strange to just hear the name again, because how long was it since he'd even _felt_ like a Meredith?

"It's all right." Being hugged was suffocating, and he wriggled, not wanting to upset her but not sure what to do about it. "_I'm all right._"

"You've grown," his father said gruffly, approaching more slowly. He hesitated, and for a moment Rodney felt sure he was going to be crushed in _another_ hug, but his father settled for patting his shoulder roughly instead. "Good to see you looking so healthy."

Someone was tugging at his hand. Rodney looked down, using it as an excuse to pull away a little from his mother. Jeannie grinned up at him, a full open-mouthed smile that showed several gaps in her teeth. "Have _I_ grown?"

"Into a person, it would seem," Rodney agreed absent-mindedly, already starting to feel a little panicked. Yes, he'd wanted attention, yes, he'd missed his family, but this was too much for _anyone_ to have focused on them all at once, and how was he even meant to react to them? Suddenly he badly wanted John, to take control, or Elizabeth, to say what they wanted to hear, or anyone who could tell him what to say to these people who were strangers and weren't.

It must have shown in his face, because his father took a hand, easing back a step. "There now, why don't we all sit down?" he suggested. "Sarah, you're stifling the boy. He's not a baby now."

"As if I could!" his mother huffed but, much to Rodney's relief, she did release him. It didn't stop her looking at him though and there was something just in that look which made Rodney deeply uncomfortable. It was as though she were trying to commit every detail to memory, so that she could call it up and pore over it later.

He sat down, and tried not to feel as though he were hiding behind the table. "Uh.. maybe they could bring us coffee?" he suggested hopefully, the vaguest memory of mornings at home stirring, and was gratified by the way his father beamed in response.

Coffee was brought, and then Rodney had a mug to hide behind as he stuttered and struggled his way through what might have counted as a conversation. It would have been difficult, even had there not been certain subjects he was forbidden to talk about. As it was, every time he wanted to tell them about a genius idea he'd stumbled on, some crazy stunt John had tried to pull, or even something Carson had managed to patch up before anyone found out about, he found himself stopping, knowing he couldn't. It meant the discussion went in stops and starts, never really able to manage more than a few words on any subject, unable to go into detail.

It was Jeannie who took command of the conversation in the end, and that threw Rodney like nothing else did. _She_ didn't have her parents' shy awkwardness, or Rodney's reluctance to discuss certain things, and she chattered away, quite happy to relate every tiny detail of home. Several times Rodney found himself staring at her, and had to stop himself, wondering if it seemed as creepy as when his mother was doing it. It just seemed impossible that the baby he had left behind should grow up into this.

Time seemed to crawl by, and when the major who had brought him looked into the room he was ready to leap up and go, relieved that his time with them was over. It wasn't that he didn't love them - of course he loved them, they were his parents! It was just that it was hard to talk to them right now.

Instead, the man turned a meaningful look on him and said, "I think Rodney wanted a private word with his sister before he went."

That was the deal, of course. Time with his family was supposed to be paid for by talking his sister round. Rodney couldn't help thinking that he was supposed to be more grateful for the opportunity. He nodded though, unhappily, knowing that there was little point arguing with it.

His parents seemed just as unhappy about the idea. They got up slowly, reluctant to move towards the door. His mother hugged him again, and used the opportunity to whisper in his ear that if he wanted to come home, at any time, just to write and say so. Rodney wanted to laugh, because even if he had wanted to leave the others to live with this family-which-wasn't-really-anymore, who really believed that a letter like that would get through?

But they were shooed out, and the door shut firmly behind them, leaving only Rodney and his sister. He looked at her helplessly. How was _he_ meant to persuade her to come away to Atlantis? He didn't even _know_ her!

Still, he made a try at it, searching for words he was certain any of the others might have found more easily. "So, they said you didn't want to come to school.."

The change in the little girl at his words was evident. She straightened quickly, all the eager friendliness gone out of her face, replaced with suspicion. "Is _that _why they let you come home just now? I thought it was odd." She pursed her lips, glaring at him, suddenly hostile. "Well, you can tell them I'm not going."

Well, that probably wasn't a good start. Still, how hard could it be? She was only seven. "Why not?"

"Why would I _want_ to?" Jeannie demanded, almost incredulous. "I don't want to go ages away and forget everyone! I'm happy at home, with Mom and Dad."

The unfairness of that statement struck him like a blow. "I didn't forget everyone!"

"Sure looked like you never really remembered us either!" Jeannie retorted. "Anyway Mom can teach me as well as any stupid school can."

"No, no, no!" The thought of his mother's teaching, as careful and kindly as it had been, being compared to the equipment and facilities of Atlantis was almost laughable. "They're not even _close! _You haven't got the right equipment - she hasn't got the right knowledge! You can't possibly be expected to keep up."

"Keep up with _who?_" she demanded. "'s not a competition, Dad says."

"Yes, well, I'm sure they do their best," Rodney said, dismissing that quickly. "But you'll soon discover that in the _real_ world you need a little bit more than them setting you a few sums and puzzles out of books."

It seemed that this was not the best way to persuade her. She stood up quickly, cheeks flushing pink. "I don't like you anymore, Meredith," she decided angrily. "You're not nice at _all!_"

"You just think I'm not being nice because you're a kid and you don't _know_ any better yet," Rodney said, exasperated. "You'll be grateful I told you when you're at school. And I'm not Meredith any more. It's Rodney."

"Then I don't like _Rodney!_" Jeannie retorted. She blinked hard, scrubbing the back of her hand over her eyes. "I liked Mer. He wrote kind letters. But _you're_ not kind at all!"

Rodney peered at her, panicked suddenly. "Are you _crying_?" he asked suspiciously. "Aw, c'mon! I never said anything bad enough to make you cry! I was only trying to explain.."

"I don't want to go away and be someone else!" Jeannie sniffed, trying to hold the tears back. "I don't need a new name, or.. or to think I'm special just because I went to a smart kid school! Maybe you're only even smart _because_ you went there if you needed it so much! And if _that's _all it takes then I don't want it - and it's not _fair!"_

"What?" Somewhere the stream of logic had lost Rodney. "No. Don't be stupid. Look, just stop _crying,_ will you?" He picked up some of the napkins left from the coffees, pushing them at her. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. I don't care. Just _stop!" _

It didn't quite stop the tears, but it did at least slow them. Jeannie rubbed at her eyes with the napkin, and then looked at Rodney warily. "I don't have to go?" she queried. "You _mean_ it?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Rodney responded wearily. This whole persuasion thing was clearly beyond him. "Stay here and do nothing if it means so much to you. You probably wouldn't be smart enough for it anyway."

That lit a fire in Jeannie's eyes behind the upset. "I am so!" she retorted. "I'm just as smart as you are, maybe better, Meredith McKay! Mum kept all your old books and I looked at them _and_ I saw where you made mistakes, so there!"

That was so blatantly unfair that Rodney could only gape at her for a moment. "I was _seven!" _

Jeannie smirked, seemingly recovered from her tearful fit. "So am _I!_"

"Yes well, it's a bit different doing things from scratch than correcting them." Rodney found himself suddenly and inexplicably on the defensive. "_Anyone_ can look and see where someone else has gone wrong. It's doing it _right_ that's hard." It didn't seem to put a dint in her sudden smug look, and he glared at her, unsettled. "Anyway, if you're so smart, why _don't_ you want to come away?"

Her smile vanished. "I told you, I don't want to go away from them," she said and, as he was opening his mouth to assure her that she'd get used to it soon enough, added, "besides, I don't think _they'd _cope if I did."

That caught him off-guard. "They'd cope," he said, uncomfortably. "Lots of parents do. Anyway, they did when I left."

Jeannie shook her head, her eyes wide. "They- they thought you were _dead,_ Rodney!" she informed him, voice very quiet. "They talked about it all the time at night, when they thought I was asleep upstairs. They just.. I think they thought someone was faking the letters."

Rodney's first thought was that she was joking. When it was obvious, from her expression, that she was not, he could only stare at her. "But.. but I'm _not!_" he protested after a moment, unable to find a better response to that. "I'm _fine!_ Why would they even think that?"

Jeannie shrugged, and sat down again, pulling her feet onto the chair. "No-one ever saw you, Mer. They just had your letters, and word from the school to say you were okay, and I don't think they trusted that. Dad kept blaming himself for letting them take you, and when I was almost old enough, Mom kept looking at me and crying, and.. you understand, don't you? I can't leave them. It wouldn't be fair."

A nasty memory was stirring, of crying because he thought the test centre would kill him if he was too smart. But that was just a silly kid's fear - surely his _parents_ weren't foolish enough to believe that?

"But they know I'm not dead _now_," he pointed out, trying to quiet that uncomfortable feeling. "So, it should be all right."

Jeannie was quiet for a long moment, lifting a hand to chew at her nails. Rodney restrained the urge to snap that it was unhygienic and she could choke to death on a piece of nail, even if the words hovered, begging to be spoken.

"I wouldn't be coming back for a long, long time," she said softly. "Would you be coming back before then?

It would have been easy to lie. easy to say he would, but.. this wasn't home anymore. Home had John, and Radek, and Carson, and work that was still sometimes hard enough to make him get angry at it. Home was on another _world_, and even if they let you come home, how could you just come back and be _ordinary,_ remembering that? But he couldn't give her a no either.

"Maybe to visit?" he offered, struggling to find a compromise, meet her halfway.

"It's not enough." Jeannie shook her head, small face serious. "Not just briefly. If they're doing without both of us, most've the time.. we're not dead, but we might as well be I think. Someone has to stay here."

"Jeannie," Rodney started, and then lowered his voice, suddenly paranoid. Was somebody listening to them talk? Probably. "Listen, you've no idea how much you could achieve if you went out there. What they're doing - what _we're_ doing, it's important."

"Mum and Dad are important," Jeannie maintained, her voice small and stubborn. "You can't just forget them."

"I'm not forgetting! I just don't think you understand how big this is," he protested. "This is bigger than Mum and Dad, Jeannie. This is bigger than _everyone._ You.." He wanted to tell her, but he had a feeling that the moment he did someone would be bursting into stop him. Maybe it was just paranoia, but they guy who'd drove him here had seemed awfully serious about maintaining confidentiality. "You'd be learning to help the whole _world_, Jeannie."

"Mum and Dad are part of the whole world," Jeannie said with sweet, seven-year-old logic. "If helping the whole world doesn't include them, I don't want to."

And however Rodney tried to argue and persuade, he simply couldn't seem to shift her from that point. All the logic and rationality in the world could not move a small child who had made up her mind on something.

He gave up in the end when tears were starting to threaten once more, and he felt his own temper on the verge of snapping. It was hard to snap at Jeannie. Snapping at Radek would get him sworn at in Czech, snapping at John got him humoured and gently mocked. Snapping at Jeannie just made him feel like a bully, and he couldn't do that comfortably. Even if he was _certain _that all that held her on earth was being too young to know better, even if he _wanted_ to yell at her for not understanding that he knew what was best for her.. she made a wobbly little face as though she was about to cry and suddenly he felt mean.

He wasn't being a bad guy. He was certain of it. Yet somehow she could make him feel like one.

"If you won't, you won't," he said eventually, surrendering with poor grace. "You'll be sorry for it later, but I guess they can't _force _you to go."

"Mum and Dad said they'd be in a lot of trouble if they tried," Jeannie agreed. She stood up, peering at him tentatively as though not quite sure it really was done with, and then smiled shyly. "Thank you, Mer."

"For what?" He'd given up now on correcting the Mer. What did it matter what she called him if he probably wasn't going to see her for another five years, if then?

"For not making me, when I can't." She didn't give him a chance to protest that if he had any way to make her, to force her to understand that it would be better for everyone if she just did as she was told, then he would, but leaned across to plant a slightly sticky kiss on his cheek. "Write more. We miss you."

Caught by surprise by the kiss, and hit by the sudden memory of previous kisses - mostly avoided as much as possible, Rodney didn't take notice at first of the napkin she stuffed into his hand. "I uh.. I'll try. It... they can't always get a letter out, and it's harder than you'd think and.." And all letters, when they were written, likely went through a full censorship panel which took a good deal of the joy out of writing them.

Jeannie just grinned at him though, all gap-toothed goofiness for a moment before she turned to head towards the door. No doubt their parents were waiting outside, pacing and wondering if they were going to lose their second child. Well, at least she was going to make _them_ happy.

It wasn't until she was gone, and Rodney stood up, about to throw away the junk, as he thought, that she had off-loaded on him, that he caught sight of the writing on it. A closer look revealed an email address, carefully printed in slightly wobbly, childish handwriting.

He sighed, and stuffed it into his pocket. What good did _that _do anybody? It wasn't as though Atlantis offered a connection to the internet.

The drive back was a miserable one. Despite his discomfort _with_ his parents, leaving them behind again made him more unhappy than he had expected. It wasn't so much that he was sad to leave them, as that suddenly he felt bad that he _wasn't_ more desperate to stay. Wouldn't normal kids react like Jeannie? And if so, where did that leave him?

He wondered what Carson would have said, had it been _him_ chosen to return to earth and bring a sibling back with him. Would he have managed to convince a member of that large group that it was best to come to Atlantis, or indeed, would he have twisted it somehow and ended up staying on earth with them? Rodney wasn't sure. He felt inept, unable to work out the situation. It wasn't a feeling he was used to and, he quickly decided, it wasn't one he liked much.

The major who drove him didn't help much either. The man seemed to take it as a sign of personal failure that Rodney hadn't been able to persuade Jeannie to go, and made several pointed comments about how much effort he might have put into it. In the end, Rodney was practically _forced _to snarl back at him. It was only self-defence, and he didn't say anything that wasn't entirely true.

Even so, he got the feeling after that the major didn't like him much.

All in all, it was not one of Rodney's best days, and by the time he was back and ready to go through the stargate he had already decided that if he could make it to bed without further incident he was going to call it a victory. Sometimes you had to make your victories really small ones if there was going to be any chance of reaching them at all.

It was a mark of just how badly he was feeling that returning through the stargate did not inspire wonder, excitement or curiosity this time. Certainly it was transporting him to another galaxy in a second, but right now he just wanted to go sulk a while. He mostly pretended to listen through Dr Lee's lecture about not telling anyone where he had been in case they wanted to go home too, and, as soon as he was allowed, nodded agreement and headed back to the group dormitory.

He was halfway back before he remembered John's rule that they weren't to travel the passageways individually any more.

It would be fine, right? It was only once, and John just.. John worried too much about those things, instead of the things regular people worried about, like whether there was _air_ in the old corridors he liked to go exploring in. It wasn't as though anyone would blame _him_ for Ronon switching groups anyway. He didn't even _like_ the guy! Still, he found himself hurrying, just a bit more, suddenly eager to be back.

He thought it was his imagination, at first, that the corridor was starting to fill up. Footsteps behind him first, that made him startle at glance back, but the boy there looked at him quite calmly. Then a couple of guys ahead of him, moving in where the passage met another. Then people alongside him, all of them joining only a couple at a time, none of them overtly threatening, and yet somehow unnerving him as they surrounded him, hemming him in. Maybe they just all happened to be going in the same direction, but it didn't _feel_ like it, and Rodney felt his heart rise into his throat as more and more joined the group, falling into step.

How did you protest that? There was no law against just _walking,_ was there? You couldn't tell people not to be there, they had just as much right as you but.. but it felt wrong.

Fighting back the feeling of panic, Rodney made his decision. He would just pull off, head into some of the smaller passages and go the long way round back. There was no reason not to, and he could escape the crowd. He turned, meaning to do so, trying to push through.

But the people to either side of him held as solidly as a wall, ignoring his polite "excuse me", and his not-so polite "will you get out of my way?". The people behind him just kept moving, calmly, not seeming to even hear his protests, moving him on. Rodney had no choice but to move with them, breathing coming fast and hard now as he realised what was happening.

He was being herded.

Away from where he'd wanted to go, away from the safety of the corridors near his own dormitory. It might have been easier if someone had yelled, or threatened, at least told him what was going on instead of just keeping moving silently, as though no-one could hear him yelling at all. In one corridor he caught sight of someone standing watching, and vaguely recognised it to be Lucius, a member of another group who, if he wasn't a friend, Rodney was at least sure he hadn't insulted much. He tried shouting to him for help, but the other boy just turned and went, ducking away before he too was caught up by the crowd. It seemed he could expect little help from that quarter.

By the time he realised that they were heading away from the populated areas of the city, into the abandoned corridors that wouldn't be open at all had John not asked it of the city, Rodney was starting to hyperventilate. There was no supervision there - that much they'd learnt from the amount they'd been able to get away with without being caught. No adults, no cameras, no-one to know where he'd gone and worry if he didn't come back.

"Hey, guys," he tried, voice gone high with anxiety now. "We probably don't want to go this way. It's... there's not been anyone down here in a really long time. There's probably.. probably rockfalls and stuff down here, and no-one wants to get crushed by rocks or walls. We should probably.. it's just best if we head back. Guys?"

It made no difference. No-one took hold of him or dragged him along, but they didn't need to. Hesitate, or try to escape, and Rodney only got himself trodden on and kicked. There were too many people in this crowd to manage that successfully.

Too many.. and that was a thought. There _were_ too many - too many for this to be just one group. This couldn't just be Smeadon upset that they'd stolen Ronon away, not with this crowd. But who else would _want_ to abduct him like this? It wasn't as though there was anyone else they'd really pissed off - at least, not beyond the usual amount.

The group stopped abruptly, as though by signal, and Rodney took the opportunity to at least try to push out of the crowd, prattling anxiously as he tried to shove through. "Well, this has been a lovely walk, but there's work to do, and I should be getting back to it. Nice seeing you all, I'm sure but I.. I uh.."

He hadn't ever really had a hope of succeeding, and it wasn't really a surprise when two of the larger boys grabbed him, the crowd parting to let them push him back against the wall.

"..or I could stay a while," he finished in a small voice, feeling himself go cold as a figure stepped out of the group.

Acastus Kolya, member of Group 4. Apparently _that_ was who they'd managed to piss off.

He was breathing hard again as the other boy stepped towards him, squirming more out of desperation than actual hope he might get free. There was something about the other boy's face - _mean,_ but not angrily so. He was calm, surveying Rodney with no obvious emotion. It made Rodney's stomach turn somehow. Anger he was used to - god knows, he wound enough people up to see it. This was just unsettling. It didn't help the way that Kolya just stood like that, watching him struggle for a few minutes before he spoke.

"Be still!" The command was a curt one, and Rodney froze. "No-one has hurt you yet."

Rodney didn't miss the 'yet' there either. He swallowed, feeling his heart start to pound. "If it's about the game that got called off, I'm sure we can arrange a rematch," he offered, brain still blank as to what he might actually have _done._ He could see faces from Smeadon's group there in the crowd, and Smeadon he could actually _understand _being angry, but Kolya? Kolya was part of Cowan's group, and all they'd done to _them_ was have a nosebleed at them - which was hardly a crime worth kidnapping anybody for! "Or we could just call it a win for you guys if you want. I'm sure we can arrange that. No hard feelings, I'm sure your group would have won anyway-" He was babbling, he knew, but being pinned against a wall and outnumbered by about fifty to one seemed to be a situation that actually _deserved_ babbling.

Kolya laughed, and Rodney felt his stomach flip again. It wasn't a comfortable sound. "Forget the game," the other boy said easily. "There's no need to panic. I'm sure we can all stay friendly here. I just want a little piece of information from you, that's all."

Being held against a wall and out-numbered wasn't feeling very friendly to Rodney, but it was probably better not to point that out. "I've got information," he agreed warily. "I've got lots of information." Just work out what the guy wanted to know - it couldn't be anything _that_ interesting or exciting - and then run away. Running away sounded like a good plan.

"Good. Glad to know we're on the same page," Kolya said smoothly. "When your group leader got hurt in the game, you said he'd turned off the city."

Ah. Not-so-good maybe. "Ye-es," Rodney agreed cautiously. He wasn't sure he liked where this was going, but that much the guy already knew.

"And I'm fairly certain he was the one responsible for turning off the doors," Kolya surmised, and held up a finger as Rodney started to answer. "Don't insult us both by pretending it isn't true. We've been asking around, and your group members were seen in a lot of places they couldn't have been, even before they got turned off. Either it was him, or somebody else in your group."

Rodney nodded unhappily._ Definitely_ didn't like where this was going.

"This is our city," the other boy said decisively. "You people aren't even from the same _galaxy_ as it, as we are, and it isn't right that it's your people who get to strut about thinking they own it, and are in control of everything. That ought to be _our_people. And it _definitely_ isn't right that you can make it do things when we can't." He paused, meeting Rodney's eyes, and Rodney just knew what was coming next. "Tell me how to order the city."

"I can't," Rodney said miserably, honestly, knowing already that this was where things went badly wrong.

Kolya nodded to a boy to the side, and a moment later Rodney doubled over as a fist was sunk into his stomach. It wasn't like getting hurt in the game, or even when John made him spar. It was meant to hurt, and it _did_, knocking the wind out of him.

"Or," Kolya continued, a note of warning in his voice, "we can go _un_friendly."

* * *

-

Rodney hurt.

He hurt badly and all over, and it was hard to breathe because he was so damn scared and _angry_. Scared because they wouldn't stop hurting him unless he told them how to command the city, angry because he'd told them over and over now that he _couldn't, _that what John did he seemed to do only as a part of what he _was,_ and there was nothing he could tell them about that.

He told them, and he told them. He'd been telling them for an eternity now, or maybe just an hour. And every time, Kolya listened, gave him time to catch his breath, nodded thoughtfully.. and then gestured to one of the guys holding him to hit him again. As though hitting him _enough_ times would somehow magically change the answer.

"You're being very difficult about this, you know," the boy complained, his tone mildly scolding as though chiding an awkward child. "All you have to do is tell us how to make it work, and then we let you go back to your friends. You don't need to make it this hard."

If he'd known how to make it happen, Rodney knew, he would have told them by now. Would have told them after probably the second or third time they'd hit him, if not the first. But he _didn't _know, and it seemed there was no way out of here unless he did, and maybe he was just going to be stuck here forever in his own personal hell where no-one listened to what he actually said, and people kept hitting him for it not being right.

"I _told_ you," he insisted, his voice sounding shaky and croaky. He'd thrown up after the second time they hit him, and had been sniffling almost nonstop through the whole thing. Neither had seemed to make a difference to them. "I don't think you _can _just make it work. Hitting me isn't going to magically make the city like you! I can't just change the universe for you!"

He knew the look now, the steady stare, just as he knew the nod, and curled instinctively as much as he could to try to protect himself from the coming blow. It hadn't worked much so far, but that didn't mean he was going to stop.

It didn't come. There was a yell, instead, from somewhere in the watching group. Rodney lifted his head hopefully, trying to locate its source. Rescue? Oh _please_, it _had_ to be rescue.

If it was rescue, it was a fast moving one, or maybe a group. The crowd fell back a step or two, and Kolya turned, losing his cool for the first time, cursing quietly. Rodney felt his spirits lift. Maybe, just maybe, it was going to be okay. If somehow the others had found out, and the group was down here, and then they'd charge and Kolya would _have_ to let him go.. maybe it was okay.

A few shouts of alarm now, and Kolya snarled orders at the group. Rodney stared hard, trying to work out what was going on, and then felt his hopes sink again as a struggling figure was dragged out of the crowd between a couple of captors. A familiar object was thrown after them.

Sure it _could_ be the whole group trying to rescue him. Or it could just be John.. on a skateboard. Apparently they were economising in their rescues.

Kolya had calmed again, that flustered moment quickly forgotten. He was even smiling thinly, and Rodney had already decided that he didn't like that smile. It wasn't a happy thing. "It would seem that the person in question has decided to join us."

"Seems that way," John observed, "Might I know what the question _is_? I don't remember either of us saying anything to piss you off lately." He was looking mussed as they bundled him towards the wall next to Rodney, clothes ruffled, hair even messier than usual, but unhurt as yet. He even seemed to be taking his capture fairly calmly. _Rodney_ wanted to be that calm, except he had an awful feeling that the calmness came from not knowing what was about to come next.

It must be really nice not to be able to work that out sometimes.

"What are you _doing_ here?" he hissed at John, twisting his head to look at him. Rescue was nice and all but, if he wasn't mistaken, things had just gotten a lot, lot worse.

"Rescuing you." John glanced at his captors, and looked a little sheepish, seeming to recognise that his actions didn't quite fit the description. "Trying to, anyway. Not quite going to plan."

"There was a _plan?_" Rodney was aware that they were being watched, and that Kolya was looking more amused than anything, but he couldn't quite seem to stop himself. Too much stress, too much pain, too much fear, and he needed someone to snap at. "Skateboarding on your own into a crowd is called a plan now?"

"Actually, the plan was to skateboard in, get the city to turn on the water sprinklers, and use the distraction to grab you," John admitted.

Rodney raised his eyes to the ceiling. It remained dry as a bone. "And?"

"And I don't think there actually are water sprinklers in this part of the city," John said thoughtfully. "Kind of a problem there. Still, the _basic_ plan was okay."

"That, I believe, is where I come in," Kolya observed. He had been looking from one to the other, his smile slowly growing.

"I wondered just where you did," John said agreeably. He nodded towards the crowd. "I didn't know you were working for Smeadon now, as well as Cowan. Guess you must just be a helpful kinda guy."

The remark must have hit home, for Rodney saw Kolya's smile vanish, just for a moment. Clearly, he didn't like being reminded that he wasn't the one in charge.

"You said that you have the ability to turn on the water sprinklers. Your friend, Rodney McKay here, says you can make the city do other things."

Rodney winced. It wasn't as though he'd been able to tell them anything they hadn't already known or guessed, but still, put like that, it sounded awfully like a betrayal.

John seemed to take it calmly though. "Sure can," he agreed. "At least, when the city wants to do them for me."

"How?" The same question he'd asked Rodney, over and over again, the same question Rodney had been unable to answer.

But where he had flustered, and snapped, and struggled, John smiled. "Guess the city just likes me," he said. "Must be my charming personality."

Rodney's stomach muscles tensed in unhappy anticipation, but where Kolya had refused to accept that answer from him, from John he seemed to consider it. "A great pity."

"It is," John agreed. "But life just sucks that way... so if you big guys could just see your way to putting us down.."

"Or," Kolya said thoughtfully, seemingly contemplating the new information, "we could just keep you to command the city for us."

That, Rodney had expected, but it seemed John hadn't. His expression flickered, hesitating for just a moment as he worked out what to do next. "Awesome," he said carefully now, somehow managing to keep his voice calm and cheery. "Let Rodney go then, and I'm sure we can work something out with that."

For just a half-second, it seemed it might happen. Kolya turned to the boys holding Rodney as though to order them to release him. Then.. that slight nod, and Rodney was doubled over again with a groan of pain, dry-retching as he tried to empty a stomach that had already been empty half an hour ago. John, he was vaguely conscious, was fighting against the guys that held him, having finally lost that calm air. It didn't help. Even if he could have broken away, Rodney might have told him, it wouldn't have helped. Not when they were outnumbered by that many.

"Or," Kolya suggested, still with that thin little smile, once Rodney was shakily upright once more and John was white and furious, "I could just keep him to make _sure _you told the city what I wanted you to."

"Let him go!" John demanded, all facade of politeness dropped now. Rodney guessed there wasn't really much point for it if Kolya was only going to do what he wanted anyway. "You've got me, I'll ask the city to do what you want - right now if you like. But leave Rodney out of it."

"Who said anything about right now?" Kolya asked. "Not like many people come all the way down here - no-one at all did until you pulled your smart little door opening trick. Nothing at all stopping me keeping you here while we arrange the world out there to our liking."

"That's a _stupid _idea!" Rodney protested, unable to hold his tongue at that. "People are gonna notice we're missing up there in no time - they're not gonna just forget we exist when we don't turn up for lessons and stuff!"

"You really think they're going to be looking hard for you two?" Kolya said. "After all the trouble you've caused, after all the times you've been where you shouldn't have been? You made a mistake, you went to an old part of the city you shouldn't have done, and, oh dear, the ceiling fell. Tragic. But not unexpected."

"They _monitor_ those things!" Rodney retorted hotly. "You think they sit up there waiting to find out that something has gone wrong with the city five seconds after it all collapses on them? Don't be so stupid. If a ceiling falls, even _here,_ there's monitors to pick it up."

"Really?" Kolya raised his eyebrows. "How nice of you to inform us. Then I suppose a rockfall must be engineered. Is there anything else you would like to suggest? That the rockfall won't be realistic unless they find a body perhaps? Because believe me, that too can be arranged."

Sickened by the threat, Rodney didn't need John's warning look to close his mouth again hastily. They were just kids, he tried to comfort himself. Just kids trying to scare them, and playing a really stupid mean game to do it. They weren't _really_ gonna go that far. But, somehow, it didn't feel like a game.

"So, that's the game, is it?" John asked in a more normal tone, and Rodney knew he was trying to distract them. "Trying to take over the world with me as your super-weapon? I think I've read comic books with that plot."

Rodney was almost certain that Kolya wouldn't even know what comic books were, but that didn't seem to matter. "Not taking _over_ the world," he corrected coolly. "Taking the world _back._ What right do you have to come into _our_ galaxy, and take one of _our_ planets and cities, and then just spirit us all off our worlds to work under _your_ adults just so we can learn to protect _your_ planet? It's hardly our concern if your people weren't clever enough to note down how to protect themselves from the Wraith. And then, if we play along like good kids and protect _your_ planet, we _might_ be allowed to keep the weapons to protect our own people? I don't think so."

"So, you're what, just going to take them?" John demanded. "A bunch of twelve year olds? I don't think that's gonna go down so well."

"Whose to stop us?" Kolya asked mildly. "Your Mr Woolsey? I don't think so. He's out of his depth here. Besides, all we have to do is ask you to lock the right doors, and the adults are taken care of. People coming through the gate? I'm sure you two know how to shut that down."

It was actually, Rodney realised with a sick feeling, a workable plan. More, it was a _good_ plan. All it needed was someone capable of working the gate, and someone able to command the city - and oh, hey, they had just the people right there at their disposal.

From his expression, John had worked that out too. "And if we _don't_ play along?"

Kolya shrugged, and glanced meaningfully towards Rodney. "I'm sure we can find ways to persuade you. If neccesary, the rock-fall becomes that much more realistic. I only need one of you."

"No, no, no, no!" Rodney blurted, fighting panic suddenly. "That's... that's not true! John doesn't know how to work the gate, that's just me and, and you need him to work the city.." And, god, he didn't want to die here, not in a stupid rock fall. He was _young_ and smart and he was meant to live for long enough to discover things and change the world and.. not die in a stupid rock fall just because Kolya was going for a power-trip.

"Easy, Rodney," John's voice sounded as though it was meant to be soothing, but he wasn't _feeling_ soothed. "No-one's gonna let anything happen to you." Apparently, he meant anything more than already _had_ happened, and wasn't this bad enough?

He slumped back down, letting his captors prop him up, trying to think. A moment later though he was raising his head again cautiously, listening. Was that_ footsteps?_

If it was, it was clear that Kolya hadn't heard them yet. "So, I need to find a way to persuade both of you?" he noted. "Well, I'm sure that shouldn't be too difficult to sort out." He gave another of those hated little nods, and it was John's turn to gasp in sudden pain as his arm was twisted to an agonising angle.

"City's... hardly gonna fall in love with you if you yank my arm off first.." he managed, through what sounded like gritted teeth, and Rodney found himself wincing in sympathy. _Had_ that been footsteps, or just his desperately hoping imagination? He wasn't sure.

"Believe me, as long as it does what I tell it to, I don't care whether or not it considers me its best friend," Kolya responded and, perhaps just to make a point, gestured again. John made a strangled noise as his arm was yanked further, and Rodney involuntarily shut his eyes. Oh god, what if they broke his _arm?_ What if they broke his arm, right there, and he couldn't do anything about it because he wasn't strong enough to get away and fight them, and in any case there were _fifty_ of them at least, and-

He could have wept for relief at the sudden startled yell from somewhere in the watching crowd, and then, like magic, there were people everywhere. Kids swarming down the passageways, kids attacking the crowd from every angle, and Kolya in the middle of it all, taken aback, trying still to shout orders. The boys holding him hesitated for a moment, and then released him, clearly deciding that it was better to use their hands to defend themselves than to hold some kid who clearly wasn't going far on his own anyway. Grateful beyond words, Rodney sank down against the wall, hugging his poor tender stomach, watching as the room descended into chaos.

"Rodney? Don't you go passing out there." It seemed that John's tormentors had had the same thought because he joined Rodney, still looking white and shaken. "Wondered what was taking Radek so long to get help. Looks like he decided to get Teyla's group for back-up. Good idea there."

Rodney twisted to look at him incredulously, not sure he believed what he was hearing. "You _knew_ help was coming?"

"Sure." John made an effort to stand, a less easy task than it seemed when he was trying not to use one arm. "When you never came back, we figured something was up. Radek checked the logs, and they'd recorded that you'd gone out and back again through the gate, so we came looking. Soon as we saw what'd happened, I sent him for the others."

"But then.." It made no logical _sense_, and Rodney struggled to put it together. "Why on earth did you come busting in on your _own_ if you knew help was coming?"

"Rounding up people takes time." John shrugged as though it were obvious. "Wasn't going to leave you to get beat up on your own while you waited, was I?" He stared at the struggling figures for a moment, and then lifted his good arm. "Hey, Carson! Over here!"

It was stupid, of course. A sure way to get hurt, and nearly got them both in more trouble than they could get out of. Still, Rodney found an oddly warm feeling stealing over him at the thought. "Getting to use you was what they wanted," he said accusingly, unsure how else to deal with that.

"Yeah, well, I didn't know that at the time, did I?" John dropped back down beside him as Carson appeared, making his way carefully towards them. "Besides, I told you before," he added, glancing at Rodney, managing a tired grin, "we don't leave guys behind. No exceptions."

* * *

-

John and Rodney alone might have stood no chance against a group of fifty, but that same fifty seemed to melt away surprisingly quickly when faced by their group and Teyla's group combined. Teyla and Ronon in particular seemed to make short work of them, and Rodney decided privately that he had _no _problem with John practicing fighting with them, if the result of the practice was that they could make those people go _away._

In the end most of them were sent running, though Kolya tried to chivvy them back together to the last, still looking back angrily as they finally beat a hasty retreat.

"He'll be back," John commented, levering himself to his feet again. "_No-one_ is allowed to go out unescorted any more. Stay together, and near help if you get into trouble. Rodney, could you and Radek rig something up to make it easier to yell for help?"

Rodney glanced to Radek who was hovering nearby, still looking anxious. "Some kind of radio device? We could, I suppose. If we had the right equipment."

"The real issue would come with encrypting it so that other groups couldn't hack into it," Radek suggested helpfully.

"Oh, please. You really think we can't manage something that the people _here _couldn't hack into?" Rodney demanded.

"I think you're all forgetting something," Carson cut in, before they could get to squabbling about the best way to do it. "These two need to go to the Infirmary. John's arm might be fractured, and I don't _think_ Rodney has any internal bleeding, but.."

That was a suggestion that cut Rodney's protests off before they even started and left him gazing at his poor, sore stomach with horror.

"...in any case, they both need to rest," Carson finished. "And in any case, aren't we going to tell the adults about this? They'd deal with it soon enough, surely?"

It was the obvious suggestion, perhaps, yet it still left the group looking at each other uncomfortably.

"We _could,_" Radek started, sounding reluctant.

"This is not the first group I have heard is behaving oddly," Teyla offered hesitantly, still standing by with the rest of her group. "No-one in my group has been hurt, but... there have been rumours. And stories."

"I've heard some too," Elizabeth admitted quietly. "It's hard to know what to believe - some are undoubtably just sore losers who got beaten in the game room, but... there are some odd stories going around."

"Report it, and they'll want to know why they wanted us," John said. "And then it'll be registered on their computers, all ready for anyone who could hack into it."

"And if we can, someone else can," Rodney completed that thought. "Not that I'm actually expecting anyone here to have half the abilities of Radek and I, but still. We can't trust them of being capable of protecting that information."

Carson looked unhappy, still crouched next to Rodney. "So, we have a pair of groups that want to kidnap and torture you two, and you _don't _want to report it?"

"Do you trust the adults to be able to deal with it?" Even Ronon was looking worried, staying close to John, as though to be ready to protect him at a second's notice.

"I think we deal with this ourselves," John decided. "We keep it quiet, and stay close together. And I maybe talk to the city about closing some of those doors again, just for now." He took a step forward, and Ronon moved forward to steady him, catching John's grimace as he moved his arm.

"Fine," Carson conceded, though he still seemed fretful about the idea as he helped Rodney up. "But you're still going to the Infirmary. Tell them what you want, but I'm not having either of you wandering around with serious injury. Not if _I_ can help it."

* * *

-

"Explain to me why exactly it is we've decided to let these children re-enact _Lord of the Flies_ on Atlantis again?" Fraiser's tone was distinctly frosty. "I could swear that teaching them to torture each other wasn't in the training brief. Why wasn't it stopped?"

Woolsey shifted, looking uncomfortable. "According to the brief, at this stage we're working at minimum interference in their socialisation. Admittedly, that brief wasn't accounting for the increased contact with other groups, but, as long as they aren't at risk of deadly harm.."

"One boy was checked into the infirmary with a fracture in his arm!" Frasier slapped the records down on the table angrily. "And you're damn lucky that kids bounce back enough that the other didn't have internal injuries!"

"Yes, how _did _they explain that?" Maybourne asked curiously, glancing up. "Seems a hard thing to cover up."

"According to Infirmary records, they avoided the old 'fell down the stairs' excuse, and said they'd been practising for their next game," O'Neill said. "Didn't explain how practice involved one of them getting hit in the stomach repeatedly, but they're kids. For real practised deceit, you're gonna have to wait 'til they grow up."

"Why wasn't it picked up sooner?" Fraiser demanded again. "And if it was picked up, why wasn't it stopped?"

"Because they're _learning_," Kinsey gave that answer smoothly. "You may not like it, but for every trick they try to pull on us and each other, they're practising pulling them on an enemy combatant. Think how Kolya led the group to pick the McKay boy up without any signs of mishap within sight of the cameras. That took real planning and preperation."

His tone drew a disgusted look from the woman. "You can't tell me you're _admiring_ that behaviour? That might have ended with two kids dead, or at least being sent home through injury!"

"But it didn't," Kinsey pointed out. "It ended in one group learning how to attack without surveillance, and another learning how to spring an ambush. I don't care how good your simulated games are, they can't do that."

"The kids are learning strategy," O'Neill agreed. "While trying to attack each other. And, apparently, us. Wait, I forget, is this a bad thing or a good thing?"

"They're not going to attack us," Kinsey said firmly. "They're testing their strength. You're telling me you can't deal with a group of twelve year olds if needed?"

"Uh.." Woolsey alone looked a little less that confident of being able to answer that question firmly. No-one else seemed to notice.

Fraiser was unconvinced. "It nearly went too far. If anyone hears that we have actual deaths coming out of that school.."

Kinsey smiled at that. "Even if we do, who will ever know? The children certainly won't be able to tell anybody. And isn't the risk worth it, if it teaches them the strategy to let them save everyone else on earth?"

"He who fights monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster," Fraiser quoted at him. "Or in case we turn our children into monsters to fight them at least. You're stepping very close to a line there. If we survive this, you might find that those kids are the next thing we have to face down."

"Frankly, if we survive this, I'll consider we've already made a good first step to having a future at _all,_" O'Neill stood up abruptly, tucking his papers together. "Because, right now, it's looking more unlikely by the week. Now, if you people don't mind, I'll leave you to your squabbling. I'm sure you'll understand, I have an alien invasion to try to stop."


	8. Carson 15

"There's been a miscalculation." For once, O'Neill didn't try to open the conversation by seeing how long he could annoy Woolsey for. He spoke quickly, urgently. "You know we've been counting on the Wraith turning up in the next decade? Turns out we've got a little less than that."

"How much less?" Just the thought made Woolsey feel ill. Sure, he wouldn't be up here at all if it weren't for the danger of Wraith attack, but that didn't mean it felt real. Real was dealing with the countless minutiae of day to day life, with the paperwork aftereffects of yet another lab being blown up, of keeping the children at the careful boiling point that kept them planning against each other but not actually killing each other. Real did not include soul-sucking monsters. At least, it _shouldn't._

"Maybe a year. Maybe months. We're playing fast and loose with the numbers here as somebody managed to screw them up so badly in the first place," O'Neill admitted. "Too fast for us to pull together a brand new strategy in any case. We're calling in the Plan of Last Resort."

"Oh, no." He should have been able to guess that was coming, but it didn't keep the horror from welling up at the idea.

"Oh, yes," O'Neill smiled without much humour. "I'm afraid we're all out of other options. Time to fall back on the Munchkins."

"You can't seriously be resting humanity's future on a bunch of adolescents?" Woolsey asked disbelievingly. "Especially not this_ particular _bunch of adolescents."

"That's the plan. That was _always_ the plan," O'Neill pointed out. "Insofar as we had a plan for things going this wrong in any case. Why are you objecting to the plan at this point?"

"Because I was always assured that there was no way we were ever going to need to _use_ the plan!" Woolsey's voice was almost a wail. "That this was to be a contingency for a set of circumstances that were never going to actually happen!"

"And now they are. Congratulations, you've just been retrospectively promoted to the guy in charge of the plan which is going to save humanity," O'Neill said dryly, sparing no patience for this kind of panic. "You don't get a pay raise, and the hours suck, but if you succeed you're probably gonna be famous. Of course, if you don't succeed, it's not really gonna matter either way about the pay raise."

"But what am I meant to do?" he demanded helplessly.

"All in your initial brief, Woolsey, if you go back and reread it. Right under the you're never gonna actually need this, but just in case section," O'Neill informed him. "And I know you'll have kept it, 'cause you're just that kinda guy. How old _are_ your oldest kids there?"

"Fifteen. We've been shipping them off once they pass that age, spreading them out," Woolsey answered. He'd been looking forward to shipping off the current oldest in a few months, and finally rinsing his hands of the whole yeargroup. Now it seemed that wasn't to be.

"Good strategy. We'll start tracing and contacting the locations with the older ones too," O'Neill nodded. "Your oldest -- that'll be the group that started the whole door-opening affair then? Well, I suppose they've got as good a chance as any."

"I hardly think that qualifies them for this," Woolsey said stiffly.

"Yeah, well. Maybe not," O'Neill granted him. "Still, at least you've got a chance of survival up there, hey? Bet you're glad we destroyed all those job applications for you now."

He was gone before Woolsey could respond to that, the monitor flickering and going dark. There was no chance to react to the idea that the reason eight _years _of job applications had gotten no response was that someone Earth-side was meticulously destroying every one.

Still, as O'Neill had figured, that was less important right now. Now was the time to work on saving humanity.

* * *

-

**Carson**

It was a hushed group that watched the transmission play out on Rodney's laptop. Not quite so small as it had been any more -- three years had allowed them to acquire certain people who, if they weren't _friends_ with everybody there, were at least acknowledged as allies. Any information any of them got was passed back and forth. There were occasional squabbles, but mostly it worked out.

So, they watched the recording together, Ronon sitting with Teyla and a couple of members of her group, Carson watching with Perna. Even a few of Sam Carter's group had joined them, and were watching with equally worried frowns. This was, after all, their planet being discussed, too.

"That's it," Rodney announced, as the recording ended and he pulled the laptop away. "I expect they'll try to work out a way to tell us tomorrow that won't freak us out or something but.. yeah. Time to work out how to save the world."

He sounded casual about it, but Carson could hear the scared note in his voice, just as he could feel it echoed in himself. Sure, they were smart, everyone there knew that. Only the most intelligent got to Atlantis in the first place.. but there was a world of difference between using your brain to duck whatever weirdness another group was going to try and pull on you this week, or to get around adults, and using it to, well, save the world.

There was no getting this wrong. Get it wrong, and there would be no home to go back to. No parents to one day be proud when he could finally explain what he'd been doing for so many years, no siblings to catch up with, not even any knitted jumpers sent in a variety of sizes because his mother was never sure how much he might have grown. Get this wrong, and it all just.. went away.

He felt a light touch on his hand, and glanced to where Perna was sitting. She smiled at him reassuringly, and he wondered if his expression had shown his thoughts.

"You will stop them," she reassured. "_We _will stop them."

"Hope so, love," Carson agreed under his breath, privately wishing he could feel so confident.

At the front, John had stood up, automatically taking charge. "Anyone have any ideas?"

One of Sam's group raised his hand. "Shouldn't we be waiting until this gets explained to us properly?"

Rodney scowled at the unlucky boy. "Waiting for adults to tell you what you're doing ends in you accidently getting shoved into committing xenocide without even knowing about it. Haven't you _read_ any of the_ Ender_ books? I prefer to actually know what I'm meant to be planning to do, thank you."

John, who Carson happened to know _had_ read the Ender books -- those particular novels had been passed around most of the group after they'd arrived in a parcel from Rodney's mother, smirked despite the seriousness of the situation. "Does that make me Ender?"

"And Rodney is Bean, but without the friendliness and charm," Radek suggested from his chair, and grinned innocently when Rodney glared at him.

"If we could focus on actually trying to save the world, rather than making jokes?" he suggested, sounding prickly as usual.

Elizabeth glanced over the assembled group, her gaze seeking Perna and Carson out. "Carson, wasn't there something you two were working on that might help?" she asked.

Trust Elizabeth to remember. Rodney prefered technology that he could take apart to see how it worked, and John's brain seemed to be up in the machines he was flying much of the time and strategy, but Elizabeth asked what you were doing and actually listened to and remembered the answer. Carson stood up, flushing a little as most of the group twisted to look at him.

"It's not ready yet," he said apologetically. "It's Perna's project more than mine, but.. if we finished it, then maybe. But as yet, we're still working on it."

"But you can finish it before we need it, right?" John interjected hopefully. "There's months yet."

Carson looked doubtful. John was still of the mind that he could change the world to how he wanted just by asking, but sometimes it didn't work like that. "We're only in the first stages of testing yet," he answered, "and there'd need to be more testing after that before we knew it was safe. Then we'd need to persuade an _adult_ it was safe -- no one's going to trust "a teenager says it's all right to take this"! Then you're going to need to arrange manufacture, distribution.." his voice trailed off as he contemplated, even if their tests were successful, the sheer amount of work that would be needed to make it a success.

There was a movement, and then Perna was standing up next to him. "It's nothing we can't deal with," she said firmly. "We have the right make-up now, I'm certain of it. We just need to get it into use."

Carson turned to look at her, aghast at the suggestion. "It's not _tested_!" he reminded her again quietly, not wanting to start an argument in front of everyone, but not wanting to claim too early that they could be responsible for this either. "Not on anything but the mice!"

"We can get through that quickly." She shrugged the objection off, unconcerned.

Rodney was looking from one to the other doubtfully. "What does this potion of yours actually do?"

It was difficult not to sigh. Carson knew for a fact that he'd explained it to Rodney several times already -- it was just, he always ended up making listening noises while gazing at his laptop screen. "It immunises people, Rodney," he explained patiently. "From the Wraith. So they can't suck anything out of you?"

"Oh!" Rodney brightened at that. "Well, that would be good to have."

Perna beamed. "We have been working from notes from my homeworld," she informed him. "A great deal of work has gone into the planning, from some very great scientists."

"But it's not _tested_," Carson insisted desperately. "And even if it were, we would need to sort out everything else."

Elizabeth seemed to catch his reluctance, because she nodded. "Well, see what you can do. If it works, I'm sure we can arrange something with the distribution. Does anyone else have ideas?"

There were a few, scattered here and there. John would start to train an airfleet -- easier now Carson's other work had made it so more of them could fly. Even if everyone there had been able to though, it would still be a pitifully small amount to protect a continent, let alone a planet. Still, it was something. Rodney and Radek promised to brainstorm about it, Sam Carter's face said that she was already mulling it over. There would be more ideas later, or at least Carson hoped there would. Once people had time to digest the news, and consider.. there would be more.

Still, as they ended the meeting, he couldn't help feeling the heavy weight of far too much responsibility on his shoulders.

* * *

-

"I don't understand." It was unusual for Perna and Carson to disagree over much, yet now she was looking at him as though he'd walked in and kicked her puppy. "I thought you were _excited_ about this."

"I was -- I mean, I _am_," Carson protested. "What you've done -- what _we've _done -- with the notes you had is amazing."

"But you won't let us use it," she said flatly, "not now, when it could actually make a difference."

"I didn't say that." How had he ended up the bad guy in this? "I'm just saying, love, that it's not ready _yet_. And we don't know if it will be. We can't let them risk everything by staking the Earth on something we don't know will even work."

"We could _make_ it work in time!" He didn't think he'd ever seen Perna angry before, but now she turned on him fiercely. "We're so close now! All the tests.."

"..are done in petri dishes," Carson completed. "All we know is that it works in petri dishes. And it doesn't kill white mice." He glanced up to where the two cages of mice were stored on a shelf, the little animals running about quite happily. "You can't automatically extrapolate from that and say that it will be harmless to humans and kill Wraith. We just don't _know!_"

"So, we do the tests! All of them -- or all that we _can_ do. And then we get it out," Perna urged. "I don't understand why you're hesitating over this -- it's _you_r people we would save!"

His people. His _family_ it might save, if it worked. Yet he still couldn't jump so quickly to the conclusion that it would. "We can't just do it that way," he said helplessly. "Even_ if_ all the tests were performed, and they all passed -- even then, I don't think you understand the amount we would have to have made._ If_ we can do it, aye, aye, it could help everyone, but we can't let them depend on this as the only solution."

Still, it was clear from her expression, she didn't understand. She stared at him, caught between fury and honest bafflement at his refusal. "You did not hesitate so much when it was _your_ work we were putting to use," she said, and the stiff accusation in her tone made him wince.

"Ah, Perna, love, don't be like that." He tried to coax her back from that anger, but it didn't seem to work. "That was a different situation. We had tested it -- we _could_ test that here. It's a simple thing here to check if the city is responding to someone -- it's not so easy to check if people are immune to Wraith when we have no Wraith! And there wasn't so much at stake if it didn't work, and fewer people to make it for when it did." There was a difference, a big one, between the members of their teams and the entire population of Earth. Still, if you had never been to Earth, perhaps it was harder to understand just how _many_ people there were. "Even then, it didn't work on some people. You know that."

"And it was _your_ project," Perna said, that accusing note still there in her voice. "So, of _course_ you trusted it was right."

"I didn't say that -- Perna!" He stared at her, hurt. "This is nothing to do with me trusting your work."

"Then why are you making this so difficult!" she demanded. "Why, when we could help so many people?"

"It's complicated," he said quietly, wanting to be able to give in, just to stop her looking at him like that, and knowing he mustn't.

"Only because you're _making_ it complicated!" She glared at him a moment more, then abruptly reached up, snatching away the carefully bundled notes they'd worked from for so long.

"Perna!" That had him up again, out of his seat, protesting. "Please."

"No!" she snapped, tucking them under her arm as she turned away towards the door. "You don't need to work on it if you don't believe it will work."

With that she left him there, alone other than the white mice, still trying to work out just where this conversation had gone so horribly wrong.

* * *

-

He hoped that, left for a few days to calm down, Perna would settle down and they could talk a little more about the subject, but it didn't seem to work that way. Instead, her work seemed to vanish over the course of a day or two, moved to the other side of the lab. Left to work alone, Carson moped, very quietly. He could have made a fuss about it of course, could have sulked and made everyone's life miserable of it, but Carson struggled with the idea of that. Misery was a private thing, and meanwhile there was work to get on with.

Perhaps the others would have noticed without being told, but they too were working flat-out. The official announcement that they were now preparing for Wraith invasion was made a day after Rodney had intercepted the information, although Woolsey succeeded in giving them remarkably little guidance on what exactly they were supposed to do about this. Nevertheless, every one of the teenagers threw themselves in doing whatever they did best -- John training a small group to be able to fly the tiny ships Atlantis had, Elizabeth trying to coordinate ideas from their and other's groups, and Rodney and Radek spending a lot of time huddled in a corner over their laptops, chattering and snarling at each other alternately.

It might be expected that those two would come up with something solid first, and so it was. Carson was staring at the notes Perna hadn't taken with her, trying to work out a way to go forward without her, when his own laptop beeped to tell him he had a message. Similar beeps came from John and Elizabeth's machines, and in a very short time the group were gathered about Rodney and Radek.

"All right, what have you guys got?" John was the first to ask, leaning over to peer at Rodney's machine. "I hope it's some shiny new weapon that lets us kill fifty Wraith at a time, because that would be just awesome right now."

"No -- don't touch that!" Eight years was more than long enough, it seemed, for Rodney to learn the tricks of John's curious fingers, and he slapped the other boy's hand away from his keyboard hastily. "What is the one thing you need?" he asked, looking more than a little smug. Actually, the expressions on both him and Radek were reminiscent of cats which had discovered the hidden location of the cream.

"A shiny new weapon that kills fifty Wraith at once?" John offered obligingly. "But then, I just told you that."

"Can you at least _try_ to be serious for five seconds at a time?" Rodney demanded, but it seemed as though he was too pleased with himself for even that to upset his mood. "What you need is a way to get past the adults so that you can produce and distribute Carson and Perna's... cure thing. Whatever it is."

All eyes seemed to turn to Carson, and he felt his stomach sink. Now would be the time to explain that, if the cure was to ever come to fruitation, it likely wouldn't be through him and Perna working together. Not now.

But then, if they could distribute it, wouldn't that remove one of the barriers he'd worried about? Shouldn't he be happy about that? He nodded reluctantly. "You've found something?"

Rodney puffed himself up, looking self-important. "It seemed to us that the main barrier which existed was that we needed to be able to contact Earth. Which was difficult, when all of our letters home are monitored, and probably censored. I mean, does anyone actually believe any of Peter's letters ever get to his father? And I'd hate to put any of my ideas through that way -- I bet someone down there would pass it off as their own, and take all the credit, and how would I ever prove it was mine?"

"Give us the Cliff's notes version, Rodney," John suggested. "The one without the paranoid ranting."

Radek took up the explanation instead, before Rodney could protest. "We know that there is the submitting of a databurst to earth at regular intervals," he said, "And we have put data in that, and found that they do not notice if it arrives with the rest."

"We did '_Hello world' _first," Rodney agreed happily. "But then, that's pretty much traditional now. So then, we thought that if they didn't notice that, they wouldn't notice a program -- a self-executing one."

"We built a small program that, upon being sent, would set up as a program for the sending and receiving of email on their machines," Radek said eagerly.

"Yes -- obviously that was the easiest part though," Rodney added. "I mean it's all very well to say you can just send emails, and it sounds like nothing, but you have to understand here that in order to _do_ that we had to break through some really fierce firewalls. This is the military. They don't _do_ lax electronic security."

"I noticed that from the fact that they bothered to engrave all our laptop cases with the mission logo in case someone tried to steal them," John said solemnly, gesturing to the emblem on the back of Rodney's. "Personally, I always thought that if someone had managed to enter the city illegally, we had bigger worries than them stealing our laptops, but I guess the military has to be careful about these things."

Rodney gave him the suspicious look that meant he was trying to decide whether he was being laughed at, but went on. "In any case, after that it was merely a case of building an interface which would allow emails to be written here, held in the system until the next time the city contacted earth, and then forwarded from the program we've set up. Similarly, any emails sent in reply will be held in their machines and then sent through with the next databurst."

"So, we can all have email accounts now?" John summed up. "Awesome."

Rodney glared at him. "I think it's a little more than that! And in any case, no you can't. I think if all and sundry start receiving emails from outer space, someone down there might just notice. This is for urgent stuff only."

"Such as contacting people who could start the production and distribution of a cure?" Elizabeth asked thoughtfully. "Well, you've certainly got the start of something useful there, although I'm not certain it'll be as easy as that. The people who could set things like that in motion are likely to be immensely powerful. They're certainly not going to start something due to the emails of a group of fifteen year olds -- I'm not sure if something that big could be started without more contact and negotiation no matter _who_ we were. And we don't have any email addresses to send _to._"

"_That_," Rodney said, gesturing impressively to something at the side of his laptop, "is where you're _wrong!_"

There was a pause while they all studied the object in question. "It's a napkin, Rodney," Carson said gently after a moment. "A rather crumpled napkin. Were you having a snack?"

"It's a napkin," Rodney corrected, sounding as though his patience was starting to be slightly strained, "with my _sister's_ email address on."

"Isn't your sister only about nine?" John inquired. "How do you know she even still checks that address any more? That napkin looks _ancient."_

"She's ten -- look, will you all stop causing problems?" Rodney snapped. "I don't see any of you getting even half as far!"

"Everyone is very impressed with how far you've both managed to get, Rodney." It was Elizabeth who stepped in today to cool things down, before Rodney could be pushed too far. "But John does have a point. I just aren't sure that a ten year old is going to get very far."

"You haven't met my sister," Rodney retorted. "She's _smart._ She belongs _here,_ but, uh.." He didn't finish that sentence, or give any indication where it might have ended. "She can handle this information."

"I'm sure she can," Carson said. "But... she's ten, Rodney. Do you really think the big serious people who manage medical companies are going to listen to her?"

"Fine!" Rodney shoved his laptop away now, and glared at all of them, arms folded across his chest. "Any of you know someone better?"

"I can't see my parents knowing anyone who could help," Elizabeth admitted, glancing about the group, clearly hoping that someone might step up. "Radek?"

Radek shook his head quickly. "It.. would not be safe," he said, phrasing his words carefully. "It is not always good to stand out. I would not ask them to."

"Carson?" She looked at him next, perhaps hoping for medical connections that could be called in.

It was tempting to say yes. Tempting, because that would be a cast iron _reason_ to contact them without censors in the way. He could email them -- all of them -- and tell them everything he hadn't over the past eight years. The little boy who'd been carried away from Scotland cried out for the idea, knowing that, if nothing else, they would at least know what he'd been doing and be proud of him.

But could they do anything with the information, once he gave them it? Could they _really?_

"No one high enough up to be listened to," he said, with reluctant honesty. "I'm sorry."

He still felt badly about it when Elizabeth's face fell, but she looked to the last member of the group hopefully. "John?"

Surprisingly, John's mood seemed to have turned more serious. He was frowning slightly, seeming lost in thought for a minute. "I don't know," he admitted slowly. "Maybe."

Rodney stared at him. "_You_ know someone?" It came out a little challenging, but that was just Rodney being Rodney again. Sometimes he could get fixed on being the only one able to help. "Who? I don't think the guy who taught you to skateboard or something is gonna be useful here."

John shook his head, too distracted even to respond with a tease. "My brother, maybe. If he would. I don't know."

"Involved in the medical world, is he?" Carson ventured cautiously. John's past had been pretty much a closed book to everyone. While most kids were happy enough to chat about home and family, with John it just never seemed to come up.

"No," John replied shortly. It was a moment before he seemed to realise that this alone wouldn't be adequate as an answer, and sighed. "Look, my family has money. It might be enough to open doors. Or not. Or if it is, they might not do it anyway."

This was information that had them all staring at him for a second. Even Radek's family had managed to scrape up enough to send a very occasional parcel to their missing son. When John's family hadn't, it had been silently assumed that there wasn't the money, and everyone had shared without comment. That there wasn't just money, but apparently large amounts of it, was surprising news.

"How much money are we talking about here exactly?" Rodney asked, and Carson knew he was trying to sound casual but somehow it didn't work. "Upper middle class money? Or rich enough to pay off a senator money?"

"Possibly the second?" John squirmed on his chair, looking uncomfortable. "I don't know exactly. I was only a kid when we all left, remember?"

"And you never thought to mention this before, why?" Rodney demanded, rather than asked. "You didn't think this was important information?"

"It's not like money would have done us any good here," John pointed out. "Up until now, anyway. And.. we don't exactly get along."

It was Carson's turn to stare at him now. "You were seven when we came here," he pointed out, perhaps a little less tactfully than usual. "How can anyone not get on with a _seven _year old?" With a family life filled with older siblings who might sometimes tease but were always there if actually _needed_, it was hard to imagine "not getting on" with any of them. Surely, that was something that only really happened when you got older?

The way John flushed red was enough to make him realise that he shouldn't have asked the question. "It's... my father liked kids who do as they're told. I.. wasn't one." And still wasn't, as they all knew well enough.

"Your brother was?" Elizabeth asked gently.

"Something like that," John agreed, looking as though he wished he'd never brought it up at all.

"Would he have access to the money?" It was Rodney, as usual, who skipped to the point. "Because if your Dad hated you that much, I can't see-ow!"

Carson, who had glimpsed Radek deliver a swift but effective kick to Rodney's ankle, said nothing.

"He'd be eighteen now I think," John said slowly, and that he didn't know for sure spoke volumes about the amount of contact that went on in that family. "So, maybe? I'm not sure. But maybe."

"Do you have an email address for him?" Elizabeth asked, taking advantage of the fact that Rodney was still rubbing his ankle.

Disappointingly, that earned a shake of John's head. "It's not something I would ask for since we don't get to use them," he said. "And.. we don't exactly write each other long letters filled with random information like that."

"Which makes it no use to us whatsoever," Rodney said sourly, glaring at Radek who was managing a passably innocent expression.

"Maybe it is not useless, Rodney," Radek volunteered though, shifting away in case a retaliating kick was attempted, "People can talk to each other. If you are to contact your sister, maybe she is to contact John's brother."

Rodney opened his mouth, as though to find fault with the plan and then, apparently not thinking of one, shut it again. "That.. could work," he admitted. "If anyone could get around someone, Jeannie could."

"Do you think it might be possible, John?" Elizabeth looked at him again.

She got a shrug from John. "Maybe?" he offered. "It's worth a try."

"And if we can do that, Carson, all you and Perna need to do is finish the work you've done, and we might be able to get this to work!" She beamed at Carson, so delightedly that it took a moment for him to realise what that meant and for his stomach to sink all over again. They had got so _far_ with planning, it seemed mean to crush their hopes.

"Elizabeth, you know I can't promise we will," he said cautiously. "It's not like with machines where, if something doesn't work you can just tweak it until it does. If it doesn't work, sometimes it kills people. Until we're sure of it, I can't promise anything."

Her face fell with disappointment. "But I thought you were close?"

"We.. were." Even closer before his argument with Perna, Carson thought to himself regretfully. "But these things can go wrong at any time. You cannot count your chickens before they are hatched with these things, you know?"

She eyed him, seeming to analyse his expression for a moment before she nodded. "All right," she said, accepting that with almost surprising ease. "Keep us updated then on how it's going. Rodney, in the meantime you and John do what you can to contact your families, okay? Whatever happens, they might come in useful."

Seemingly, the subject was dropped, left to Carson to deal with at his own pace. He had a feeling though, that things would not be left quite so easily as that.

* * *

-

The feeling that he might not have escaped so easily persisted through the day, leaving Carson with an unfamiliar anxious feeling as he waited for something to happen -- for someone to try again. He was almost grateful when Elizabeth poked her head into the lab that evening, as he was again studying the notes he'd had left from Perna.

"Carson? Can I have a quick word?"

"Sure, what is it, love?" The response came automatically as he glanced up. It might, he told himself, just be that Elizabeth was worried about one or the other of them being ill, or having a hidden injury. Certainly, that happened often enough. Still, his gut said that it was something else.

Sure enough, once she had seated herself, she glanced enquiringly to the empty half of the desk. "No Perna tonight?"

"She's.. working alone at the minute." Carson felt himself flush, and cursed Elizabeth's quick perception. "What is it I can help you with?"

Elizabeth didn't reply straight away but studied him instead, peering at him until he had to resist the urge to fidget under her gaze. "Did you two have a fight?"

Ah, now, he could avoid bringing it up, but there was a difference between that and lying when directly asked. The first Carson could manage, but the second… "A bit of a one," he admitted reluctantly. "Nothing serious. Storm in a teacup, as my Mum would say."

"She's moved all her work," Elizabeth pointed out, glancing up to where the mice cages usually stood. "That sounds quite serious."

Now, he did fidget. It was tempting to do as Rodney would have, and turn away from her to stare at his laptop screen, but he fought that impulse. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked again, pointedly, hoping she would drop the subject.

Elizabeth sighed. "Carson. I'm only concerned about you, that's all. Is this why you couldn't promise to work on the immunization project? Because you'd argued?"

"In a way," he conceded. It wasn't something he really wanted to talk about, but it was difficult to resist Elizabeth's methods of probing. She didn't try to bully it out of you, but just kept asking and so gently that it was hard to resent her for it. "And in a way... not. We rowed _because_ I couldn't promise it'd be done, you see?"

"Because there was no production and distribution method?" Elizabeth queried.

"Partly that," Carson agreed. "And partly.. I just couldn't guarantee it would be safe, Elizabeth. We're working from her ancesters' words, and so she takes it as read that everything will work as it should, but if you trust to that alone, you're living on.. on love and a prayer and precious little else! There have to be tests done, and she doesn't want to hear that it may not pass the tests!"

It was unusual for him to have quite so wild an outburst, and maybe that was why Elizabeth was quiet for a moment or two before she answered him. "Have there _been _any tests yet?"

"A few," he admitted, glancing again at the results on his screen. "We tested its effectiveness against the Wraith samples we had, and it seemed to work well enough. We tested it on white mice for safety, and all those seemed to come through it fine. But none of that is a guarantee that it'll be the same when you're working with more than animals and blood samples. Humans aren't mice!"

"No-o," Elizabeth agreed slowly. "Still, it's quite good that you've got this far successfully, isn't it? In the time you've had, that seems like a long way you've come already."

"Oh, we've done an amazing amount!" That, at least, Carson could agree with. "I just don't think its far enough to promise it will be the answer yet."

"And Perna does?" Elizabeth half-asked, half-stated that.

He nodded glumly. "When I said we needed more tests first, she thought it meant that I didn't trust her work, that I would be fine if it was something _I'd _been the main force behind. I only wanted to be sure it was safe!"

"_Would_ you do the same if it was your work?" That question seemed to come from nowhere, and hit him like a blow. He stared dumbfounded and hurt at Elizabeth, unable to concoct a meaningful response, but she went on hastily. "I don't mean, of course, that you'd behave differently intentionally -- we all know you better than that, Carson! But, I just wonder -- we're all better at the work that originates in our own places, because we learned _that _first, so it seems more sound, more.. natural. If these ancestors of hers had been scientists from Earth.."

"I wouldn't behave differently," Carson said quickly, firmly. "The tests would still need to be run."

"Of course, the tests need to be run," Elizabeth agreed. "I don't think anybody is arguing with that. But would you be more certain that they would pass?"

It was harder to answer that, and Carson found himself hesitating, second-guessing his own actions. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's impossible to say."

"And harder when you know that so much depends on it working," Elizabeth guessed intuitively. "You don't want to say that it'll be fine, because if it isn't you'll let everybody -- our whole _planet _-- down."

"Something like that." There was pressure to get something done, and there _was too much _pressure, and this amount of it was like someone driving a nail into his nerves. "I've checked everything I can out about this, Elizabeth, but.. we're fifteen.."

"And you're _good_." She said that with the utmost confidence, looking at him earnestly. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't. I bet you would have done something big by now even at home, but now you've been here so long -- I don't think they even _have_ kids like us at home! You completed something that let you change people's _genetic code_ so that the city would talk to them, Carson -- doesn't that tell you something?"

"It doesn't always work," Carson pointed out uncomfortably. "It didn't work on Radek."

Elizabeth laughed out loud. "Carson, as you said, you're fifteen. It shouldn't work_ at all!_ But it does."

It was true enough, Carson knew, but somehow it didn't take away his uneasy feeling, the feeling that he was in over his head.

"If you were John or Rodney or -- no, maybe not so much Radek," Elizabeth corrected herself. "But if you were one of those two then yes, I'd be worried, and watching to see what would go wrong. But you're not. You're smart, and you're careful, and you're not going to let anything out that isn't safe. And that's good. I respect that. But... if anyone can make this happen, Carson, it's you and Perna."

And there went the pressure again. "We won't be sure until the tests.."

"And I wouldn't expect you to be," Elizabeth assured him. "So we won't depend just on what you have. We'll keep working to find other plans in case that fails. But.. it's looking very much like Earth is going to be invaded. It's got to be a good thing that you're close as you are, that we're working on what _might_ be a way to get it out, right? And if it fails.. we try something else. But there's no need to say you can't succeed because you're afraid of failing."

Which really, he supposed, hit the issue right on the head. "So, we go ahead with the tests..?"

"We go ahead with the tests," Elizabeth confirmed. "Go make up with Perna, tell her about John's brother. If it fails.. we'll work out where to go from there, but let's not go in assuming it will." She smiled as she stood, reaching to pat his shoulder lightly. "It's all _right_, Carson. I know it's big and scary, but.. we believe in you."

It seemed that this was as much reassurance as he was getting. Still, the argument with Perna had nagged at him, and the thought of being able to make up with her was a good one. He stood up obediently. "I'll.. just go have a quick word with her then, shall I?"

"You do that." Elizabeth smiled at him fondly. "Have fun. I'll tell the others you're working if you're not back at the dorm 'til late, shall I?"

He laughed, feeling himself flush again at the teasingly offered implication. "Yeah. Uh.. thanks, Elizabeth."

"No problem." She grinned at him, and he grinned back, feeling just a touch lighter as he hurried over to the other side of the lab, hoping Perna would be there.

* * *

-

The bench Perna had been working at was empty, her laptop missing, but Carson sat down anyway to wait. The amount of time that they both worked in there, it probably wouldn't be too long before she turned up there again. Then he could apologise, explain, they could stop being angry at each other... life would be good again. Carson liked that. It was an uncomfortable, miserable feeling when someone you liked was mad at you.

He didn't mean to read the notes she had left out, but it was almost an accidental thing. He was just sitting, and his eyes skimmed over the documents on the desk, taking in the top sheet of the paperwork pile without really meaning to. Druhin, Merell.. those were familiar names, the names of kids in her group, and Carson frowned a little. Why would they be mentioned in any research she was doing? Unless.. a bad feeling nagged at him suddenly, and it took an almost superhuman effort for him to resist reaching over to pick up and read the rest of the document. No. That would be an awful invasion of her privacy, and he would have hated it had their roles been reversed. There would be a reasonable explanation. Better just to ask her when she turned up.

It was an easy resolution to make, and a harder one to keep. Time seemed to move more slowly now, and he was on the edge of forgetting the rule about never going off alone and going to look for her when his gaze happened to stray upwards. The next moment he was up, and out of his seat, with a cry of alarm.

There had been two cages of white mice when they worked together, always two. One set to receive the immunisation, and one set to be kept as a control. You weren't meant to name the animals you were experimenting on, of course, or get attached. It was stupid to get fond of animals you were likely to end up killing, or needing to dissect.

Still, in a world without pets it was hard to keep to that resolution as much as they should. Carson and Perna both had spent a few happy afternoons petting the little animals, or letting one out of its cage to play. Horrible breaches of protocol, and not mentioned in any of their notes, but there had to be _some_ perks to being a fifteen year old scientist.

Now, the shelf by Perna's desk held one cage of happy, healthy, lively white mice, and one cage of what looked to be mostly dead ones.

Leaving her stuff alone was forgotten. Carson had the cage down on the desk within moments, and was examining the mice, gloves hastily pulled on. Better not to try without gloves in case whatever killed them could be transmitted through a bite or scratch. It didn't seem as though these ones would be biting anyone any more though. It took only a little handling to determine that almost half of the immunised mice were stone-dead, their small bodies stiff and cold.

The pang of sorrow Carson felt as he handled them probably explained why lab animals weren't to be treated as pets. Overlapping that though was worry, almost bordering on panic. It would take dissection and thorough examination to determine what had killed the mice, but if it was the drug, which seemed likely.. the consequences of that were almost too bad to bear thinking about. A test failed, no hope of a safe immunisation, no chance that the plan they had put together might work.

A thought struck him, and he glanced about wildly, looking for the vials they had made up ready of the drug. There was the shelf the cages had been on, the desk, the drawer, even the lab fridge. Any care Carson had felt for not going through Perna's possessions was long gone - he searched wildly, desperately, wanting to be wrong, _needing_ to be wrong.

There were no vials.

Finally, still hoping against hope, he sat back down and picked up Perna's notes. Invasions of privacy could be pardoned in the case of serious emergency, surely?

It took only the briefest scan of the first couple of pages before he was up, out of his seat again, and running towards the door, pausing only to snatch up one of the dead mice. More grateful than ever before to the little radio transmitters Rodney and Radek had put together, Carson activated it as he ran, calling quickly for John.

"John? John, are you there?"

It was a moment before a voice crackled through in reply. "Here. Something wrong?"

"I don't know," Carson admitted. "Maybe. I'm on my way over to Perna's group's dorm. I think something might be up. Can you come? Bring.." He hesitated, unsure what they were facing, who would be best-placed to tackle it. Rodney might flap, none of them knew anything about medicine, Elizabeth would keep a cool head but might not be where John was. "Bring people," he finished, unsure how they could help, but certain he didn't want to face whatever he might find alone.

But then, for all he knew, what he found might just be... nothing. They might be fine. Everything might be fine. But the ache in his gut told him otherwise.

John caught him up before he reached the other dorm, Teyla and Ronon following behind. "You might have waited for us," he said mildly, falling in by Carson. "We weren't far off, practicing. What's wrong?"

Carson waved the mouse at him, too out of breath for a moment to reply.

"You're taking your girlfriend a dead mouse?" Ronon asked incredulously, wrinkling his nose.

"No! No.. or I _am_ but.." Carson gulped air, trying to find breath to explain. "It's one from her experiment - I found them in the cage. They're dying."

"Oh!" That removed all laughter from their faces. They didn't have to be told the implications of that.

"So, you want us to be there when you tell her?" Teyla inquired delicately. "Is it that you believe she will be upset?"

"No." He wished it was only that, but Carson had to shake his head unhappily. "I read her notes and.. I can't find the stuff we'd made up in the lab. I think she might have been testing it on her group."

Teyla paled, and Ronon and John were silent a moment, absorbing what that might mean. Carson just kept moving, jogging along, desperate to be there already. Legs couldn't seem to carry him quickly enough - he needed to be there _now!_

"The mice.. would have started taking it a couple of weeks ago, right?" John ventured very quietly after a minute or two of jogging. "So they might be all right."

"Maybe." Maybe, maybe, but asymptomatic wasn't the same thing as all right, and it was no good having a few days extra if Carson had no idea how to repair them in that time. Stopping to explain that though would have only taken more time, so Carson left it there and kept moving.

He knew almost as soon as they came into sight of the dorm that something had gone wrong. The area was _too_ quiet, empty of people. There was always someone - people wandering in and out, a guard posted at the door. But now, there was no-one.

Heart heavy in his chest, Carson was glad of the three people at his back as he reached to open the door.

The scene inside had him rolling up his sleeves to help as soon as he stepped in, hastily shoving the dead mouse at John without a second thought. He needed to wash his hands and then he needed to... to help, somehow, and keep on helping until he could fix this.

Almost every bed seemed to be occupied, filled with pale, sick patients - more than were ever seen in the Infirmary. Only a couple were out of bed, doing their best to help Perna as she hurried from one to another, doing her best for people who seemed to be only just clinging to life. She looked exhausted, near collapse, and Carson ached for her even as he fought the sudden surge of anger on behalf of those who were ill. This should not have happened.

"What do we do?" John murmured behind him, the three wide-eyed with shock. No matter what they had expected, it had not been this.

"Call help," Carson said briefly. Shock, horror, anger - these things would have to wait until later for him. He had to help now. "The Infirmary - tell them what happened. Fast as you can." He moved automatically now, peeling the gloves off, scrubbing his hands in one of the dorm's small sinks before he moved to one of the beds, not looking to see whether or not they obeyed.

The girl in the bed was a face he vaguely recognised, a name he should have known, and that made it worse somehow, the not-knowing. If you were going to be this ill, it seemed only fair that people should at least remember who you were. Carson crouched next to her, wincing at the heat coming from her. It seemed like a dangerously high fever if he was any judge.

"Looks like you've been a little bit poorly, love," he said gently, voice dropping to the soft accented tones he used when he needed to comfort or to calm. "Can you hear me? You want to tell me your name?"

There was no response from the girl, not even a flicker of her eyelids to signify that she'd heard.

"I managed to get her to drink enough earlier that she shouldn't be dehydrated," Perna said clinically behind him. "There's one over there which needs help more."

"She's feverish and non-responsive!" Carson turned to look at her, unable to quite swallow down that anger now. "Why didn't you call the Infirmary earlier?"

Perna shrugged helplessly. "I... they would have stopped it. The experiment, everything. I thought I could fix it. It didn't seem it could be dangerous. The mice.."

"The mice are_ dying!_" Carson said sharply. "Why didn't you call _me_? I.. I would have helped, at least."

Perna just looked at him, and with a little shock, Carson realised she was shaking. He reached to touch her hand, and felt the glow of heat pouring from it.

"You took the drug too," he said more gently, softening his voice.

"We.. we voted on it." When she started to cry, Perna did so quietly, tears running down her face as she tried to explain. "I knew we had to get to the next phase of testing before it could go anywhere - we were going to _save_ people!"

And instead it had come to this, a room full of dying teenagers full of a drug no-one fully understood. Carson moved to slip his arm around her, and ended up almost carrying her as she collapsed against him. He steadied her, feeling her heart beating frantically against him, pounding faster than any healthy heart ever should. "You need to rest, love," he murmured, glancing about until he located an empty bed. "We'll take care of all this for you now. Come on, now."

Someone should have suggested it for her a good while ago, for she almost fell onto the bed, needing Carson's help to get in. He looked at her, exhausted against her pillow, and thought unwillingly of the dead mice. So full of life, so active until.. they weren't anymore.

"You need to see to the patients," she managed, tired voice filled with anxiety. "Yerill.. I couldn't help him."

"I will, love," Carson promised, glancing at the door and hoping desperately that help would arrive soon. Help that knew what it was doing, that could take over so that he could stay close to Perna. But, duty called. "I will."

When he moved to see the patient she had indicated, Carson discovered that his skin was cold and clammy, his pulse still in his wrist. The boy had already died.

* * *

-

When the Infirmary staff arrived, they did so with the haste and panic of doctors informed of dying patients which no-one had bothered to mention to them until now. Carson found himself lost among faces which had previously belonged to friendly mentors but now belonged to angry inquisitors who snapped out frantic questions and seemed ready to shake him. What had they taken? How much? Was he sure he didn't know? How long for? Why was he babbling about_ mice?_

It was the first he had seen of the efficient terror of people who, realising they had done too little to prevent something, were now determined to do too much. Twice, someone tried to hustle him to bed, unbelieving of his protests that he hadn't_ taken_ the drug. John and Teyla seemed to be fighting off the same attentions, although, oddly, no-one seemed to bother Ronon.

He wasn't given time to count the amount of bodies which were carried out, carefully wrapped in sheets. Later, he wasn't sure whether or not he was glad of that. There were things you didn't need to see.

No-one seemed to _understand._ Carson had been so certain that once the Infirmary staff arrived that things would be well in-hand, that they would be able to act where he was just helpless, but it didn't seem to be the case. He talked, and they looked at him blankly, tried to examine him, or shooed him away. He was trying to explain again to one of the adults what the drug had been for when John and Teyla approached him, one taking a firm hold on each arm.

"We are sorry," Teyla said, very politely. "But he needs to come now."

Carson looked blankly from one to the other. "I need to tell them-"

John shook his head firmly, tugging on his arm, physically pulling him away. "Now, Carson. You can yell at us later, if you want to."

He let them lead him, bewildered but obedient, following along as they almost dragged him back to Perna's bed.

When he saw her, he understood. She was too still, her breathing too shallow, her pulse terrifyingly feeble against his fingers.

"I'll call one of them for help," he said immediately, moving to do so, but John moved to block his way.

"We've been watching," he said quietly. "You call one of them to help, and the bed gets surrounded by people shouting at each other, they'll shove you outta the way, and then a minute later she gets carried out in a sheet. They don't know what they're doing, and it makes them angry."

Carson stared at him, and then back at the still figure in the bed. "I don't know what to do," he said helplessly. "I can't fix this."

"Stay with her," Teyla advised. "If she cannot be saved.. she should be here among people who knew her. People who loved her. Not them."

_If she cannot be saved._ Carson sank back down into the bedside chair, reaching to grasp Perna's hand, trying to will life back into her body.

Perhaps it worked, for Perna's eyelashes fluttered for a moment. "Did you see Yarill?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Carson nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "He'll be fine," he managed, deciding that the lie was forgivable this once. "They'll all be fine."

"Mmm.." The sigh was soft, and for a moment he thought she had stopped breathing. "We wanted to save people."

"I know." How could he be angry with her for it now? She had only wanted, so hard, to save Earth. So hard that in trying she had killed her own people. He squeezed her hand lightly. "Rest, love. We'll take care of this now."

She gave what could have been a nod, lying still once more. Teyla started a gentle hum as they sat there, a low soothing sound that calmed the soul, bringing a tiny piece of peace into the panicked room.

When Carson checked again, Perna was breathing no more.

* * *

-

It was good to have parents who didn't freak out when you spent time online unobserved. Jeannie had been given her first computer at the age of four, though at that point she'd needed a cushion to actually see the monitor properly. They'd taught her be smart enough to know who she was talking to, to use the fount of endless knowledge to _work_ for her, answering the questions they couldn't find the answers for, and, after a certain age, they'd trusted her to know enough to be okay on her own.

It was a good lesson. Jeannie might have lost a couple of keyboards to kool-aid spills, and destroyed a laser mouse by trying to find out how it worked, but she'd never been dumb enough to agree to meet up with a stranger.

In return for that, she got to do this, to check email without being observed or questioned about it. She knelt on her chair, settled more comfortably that way, clicking quickly through the screens. She had two addresses, and she checked her usual one first, scanning quickly through the usual mess of spam. There was nothing of real interest there, and she closed it after a minute, opening the other. This one was always empty - had been empty, in fact, for the last three years. Still, she checked it regularly, every morning and evening, just in case something happened to arrive.

Today something had, and the surprise of that made her stare at her screen for a moment before she moved to click on it. She had thought he had forgotten, lost the address maybe, or perhaps thrown the napkin away without even noticing it. He'd never mentioned it in any of his letters. Habit alone had kept her checking - just in case, just in _case_ he tried to contact them.

It took less than a minute for her to scan the full email, and she bit her lip, thinking for a moment. She glanced from side to side, checking her parents weren't about before she hopped off her chair, fetching the phone back over to the desk. A few more clicks, and she was scanning an online directory, her features set in a deep frown.

It was time for her to work out how to set up a meeting with a stranger.


	9. John 15

"I'm glad you took the time out of my busy day to let me know you've managed to piss off the Hoffans. That's just what I needed to hear." The approaching crisis was beginning to have a clear effect on O'Neill's mood. Right now, even through the link-up, he managed to sound distinctly annoyed. "Did you decide we might get bored preparing for just one battle with unbeatable aliens so you better try to find someone else to have a war with?"

"No." Woolsey shifted in his seat uncomfortably. It was an unhappy thing to have to report something so big that you _knew_ you'd fouled up on. "I believe they're unlikely to take aggressive action at this point.."

"Because you've neglected to tell them as yet that a dozen of their brightest kids have ended up in body-bags?" O'Neill guessed, correctly. "You know, I gotta tell you, that's really not the best way to make friends and influence people. They're gonna work it out eventually."

"I'm drafting letters to explain." It was the truth, he was. It was just that every time he tried to find the words for it, they seemed to rearrange themselves mockingly, sounding painfully feeble as an explanation. "And I've ensured that there will not be a re-occurrence. The boy who was involved in the planning of the experiment has been dealt with."

"By which you mean that you've continued the good ol' IOA policy of finding someone to blame, and putting them through the wringer for something that wasn't actually their fault to start with?" O'Neill suggested, his tone dry. "Glad to see some traditions hold up, even in a backwater galaxy out in the middle of nowhere."

Woolsey flushed, put on the defensive and angry because of it. "It could hardly be over-looked! There were twelve deaths because because they decided on this wild plan to make up a drug against the Wraith and use it on each other! Without telling anyone, without involving any of the adults here - if he was an adult he would be on trial for malpractice!"

"And if they'd succeeded, we would stick a medal on his chest and call him a hero," O'Neill commented. "But they didn't, and he isn't. He's a kid who got told he had to save the world. Doing that, and then being surprised when he tries something dumb like this is like encouraging kids to declare war on each other and then making shocked faces when they don't trust you enough to tell you anything anymore. Oh, wait, are we doing that too?"

"Are you saying that I should have let him off?" Woolsey demanded angrily.

"I'm saying that we created our little monsters. We can't complain now they're all grown up, and ready to start eating people," O'Neill answered. "It doesn't work like that. Not when that's what we taught 'em to do. Oh, and some might say that the death of a dozen of his friends might be punishment enough, but I can't expect the IOA to see it that way. They never have before, at least."

"You _can't_ have twelve deaths without someone being held responsible for it!" It went against everything he knew, the idea that it might just be brushed aside, overlooked.

"Never said you could," O'Neill said calmly. "I'm just saying that in this instance, the guys responsible might not be the ones who are fifteen years old.."

* * *

**John**

"I hate him." It was something you said, jokingly or in anger, but right now John felt as though he actually meant it. "I.. I'd like to feed him to one of the Wraith _myself_ if they come."

No one argued. Carson had seemed fragile enough after what had happened, as though he were ready to just sit there holding Perna's hand forever. But then after Woolsey had turned up, and pretty much _dragged_ him into the office, he'd come out looking.. broken. They'd been waiting outside, desperate to know what was going on, but he'd looked as pale as a ghost when he opened the door, and walked right past them as though he didn't see them at all.

He'd gone to bed after that, refusing to talk to anyone. John might not know what had been said to him, but he could guess. He'd seen the expression on Woolsey's face when he'd looked at the scene in the dorm -- but none of that had been Carson's_ fault!_

He fidgeted now, unsure what to do with the awful feeling of helplessness inside of him. Always, before, when things can gone badly wrong there had been a way to fix them. He could rescue Rodney, he could plan an attack against another team. Life was easy when problems could be solved by fighting things. But there was no-one he could fight to bring Perna and the others back to life for Carson.

"I could punch Woolsey," he said out loud, just testing the idea to see how it felt. "Or ask Ronon to punch him."

"It wouldn't help," Elizabeth said flatly. She was looking a little red around the eyes, and she wasn't the only one. John figured that most of them had found time to vanish off to the bathroom, or fetch something from their bedside drawers a few times over the last day. Everyone needed their few minutes of private time, even if no-one could say it. "I hate him too, but punching him's not going to achieve anything."

"Yeah," Rodney agreed. "They pull you off him, you get sent home and eaten by Wraith. Where does that get us?"

"Well, we've got to do _some_thing!" He looked at Elizabeth pleadingly. "You're good at talking to people. Can't you help him?"

She shook her head helplessly. "You saw how he is. He doesn't want to talk to anyone right now, and I can't make him. It's only been a day. This isn't something he's going to get over overnight, John. We can't just rush him into being okay again."

He knew it, he understood it, and he hated it. Part of him wanted to go shake Carson awake, get him up and push him through the rituals of day to day life, just to see if he would forget and... and start acting like Carson again. This wasn't Carson, this white frail creature which seemed to have lost the spark in his eyes.

He wouldn't recover in a day. But what if he didn't in a week, a month, a year? What if their Carson never came back?

"It'll be a while," Elizabeth said more firmly, perhaps reading that impulse in his face. "You just have to give him time to work through it."

"Meanwhile," Rodney injected, his tone awkward in the way that suggested he knew no-one wanted to hear what he had to say, "no one's talking about what he's not working through. We haven't got a plan for Wraith invasion any more, have we?"

John's first impulse was to scowl at him, resenting the work as he resented to people who asked it of them. "Let them solve their own invasion if they're so smart. I'm not working on it now. People have just died. They can give us time."

"If we don't work on it, everybody dies.." Elizabeth sounded reluctant too, but she sat up, casting a glance his way. "John.."

"Fine, fine." It didn't get rid of the tight knot of anger in his chest but he straightened up, trying to clear his mind. "But I'm not promising that any plan I come up with won't involve Woolsey and his entire gang eaten by the Wraith. Those doctors too. I saw how they looked at Carson."

"We know." Elizabeth didn't argue with him, but patted his arm soothingly, beckoning to the others. Radek joined them quickly, and Teyla drifted over with Ronon. No one had told her to return to her own group after the incident, and it had seemed natural when she fell asleep in a spare cot, vacated by someone in the Infirmary. No one wanted the job of explaining to people outside their little knot what they'd seen. They all just needed each other.

Carson needed them too. John just wasn't sure what he needed them to_ do_ right now.

"We need a new plan," Elizabeth said as they settled down. "As soon as possible. We don't know how much time we have."

"We are not asking Carson to join us?" Radek asked quietly, glancing over to the other boy's bed.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Let's just... let him rest for now. What ideas do we have?"

John frowned, trying to get past the worry and fury for long enough to think. "If we can't ensure that everyone down there is safe, shouldn't we start by getting 'em off? Evacuate them."

"When my people were attacked, the best method was usually to flee," Teyla agreed. "You may fight, but fighting only buys you a little time."

Rodney shot them both a glare. "Do you two have _any idea_ how many people there are on Earth? No offence, Teyla, but I don't think your entire people would even fill one of our cities."

"Well, you've got to start somewhere, haven't you?" John said reasonably. "Shove them into spaceships or through the stargate or something?"

"Rodney is right," Radek said, giving a quick shake of his head. "There are simply too many people."

"You'd need enough spaceships to carry everyone on Earth," Rodney agreed, his tone indicating that the very idea was idiotic. "And can you imagine trying to get them all through the stargate? You'd have to transport them to it for a start, find somewhere you could put them all, and then try to get them into something resembling a line."

"As soon as word got out, there would be panic," Elizabeth said gravely. "Everyone would want to be through first. You might even get countries going to war over the right to get their people through it first."

John grimaced and sat back. "Fine. We ditch evacuation," he said. "Other ideas?"

"Fight them," Ronon suggested bluntly, sitting back. "You're going to have to, sooner or later. Running doesn't work."

He said it flatly, and John had gathered enough of Ronon's history from the things he said, and the things he didn't say that he didn't ask questions about that statement. It didn't mean he could make it work though. "They're trying already, from what Rodney's picked up," he said. "But.. they don't have enough ships made, or enough trained guys."

"And they're not using all they have," Rodney put in sourly. "Why are you guys still _here _when all their messages keep complaining they're so short? I don't see why they trained you to fly if they're just going to ignore you."

"I don't know." It was a thought that had occured to John too. Maybe some of the other guys were a bit unstable in the air - certainly, Carson always looked as though he'd rather have a hand over his eyes as he flew - but he was certain _he _could face anything he had to. "They're idiots, I guess. We knew that already."

"Aren't you two working on anything?" Elizabeth asked hopefully, and Rodney and Radek glanced at each other.

"Nothing that could be used on this," Rodney said, sounding reluctant to admit that for once he _couldn't_ magically pull an idea out of his hat that would solve anything. "We've been looking at alternate universe theory."

Radek nodded. "There is a theory that there are many universes, all very similar?" he offered. "And we thought that maybe, somehow, we could change this one for one exactly the same but without the Wraith. But, it does not work like that."

"We've managed to determine that they _exist_, but there's trillions of the things," Rodney said glumly. "Most that were never even inhabited at all. And you can't just switch to the one reality you happen to like best. If you could, I'd be going out with Sam right now."

Despite his mood, John found himself struggling to choke back a laugh. "Useless then?" he suggested.

"Not _useless_." Rodney was indignant at the term. "If we could actually tell someone about our research, we'd probably be receiving a Nobel prize just for proving they existed at all!"

"But right now, probably not having a use in this particular situation," Radek allowed. "Sorry."

Elizabeth was thinking, frowning slightly as she considered. "If we can't fight, and we can't run, couldn't we hide?" she asked. "Rodney, there was that trick you used in the battleroom, to mask that we were there?"

"No." Rodney turned that idea down flatly.

"No?" Her face fell.

"Masking things takes power," Rodney said. "I doubt that there's enough power in the universe to hide Earth for more than a second. And when they turn up, and there's no planet, I think we can guarantee that they're going to hang around a while asking questions. They're going to _notice_ if we magically reappear."

There was silence for a few minutes after that, their store of ideas seemingly exhausted for a moment.

"Space elevator," John said finally, when the quiet had dragged too long, and he'd racked his brain until it ached.

Rodney shot him a disbelieving look. "Firstly, we don't _have_ a space elevator, and secondly, that's just evacuation again under another name with all the same problems that it had the first time. Are you_ deliberately_ being stupid?"

"Well, you think of something better then!" John retorted, patience frayed almost to breaking point.

"Look, you want to know what you do if you're going to evacuate something the size of Earth?" Rodney snapped. "You _don't _start a few months before it all goes to hell! You've got to start _years_ ahead for something like that -- finding somewhere, starting with the right people, getting it set up. It's no good just throwing things out if your ideas don't work!"

"It was just an idea!" Something deep inside John knew that he wasn't really angry at Rodney, just as Rodney wasn't really angry at him. This was just anger, anger at the world that needed a vent point. But that didn't make it any easier to swallow down.

Not for Rodney either, though Rodney had never really been good at that in the first place. "Well, it's a _stupid_ idea!"

"You know _why_ it's a stupid idea?" Tired, furious, and thoroughly fed-up, John stood up. "It's stupid because I'm _fifteen_! We're _all_ fifteen! And fifteen year olds don't just go around saving the world! Not when guys with decades of experience apparently can't do the job!"

"Well, it's an idea that _sound_s like it came from a fif-" Rodney was starting scathingly when he stopped short suddenly, turning pale. "Oh, no. Nonono."

"Rodney?" John knew that look. It was never a _good_ look, not when it was Rodney.

"Have to check something!" It was apparently all the explanation he was getting, because Rodney was gone, diving towards his bed to pull out his laptop again, Radek following close behind.

* * *

Whatever he had to check, it apparently took some time to be sure. Peering over his shoulder got John swatted away, and he took a seat at a safe distance to wait. Apparently it made more sense to Radek however, because _he_ glanced at the screen, uttered a low curse in Czech, and reached to grab his own laptop, quickly joining the frantic typing and clicking.

"What have you-" John started to ask at one point, but was silenced by a glare from Rodney.

"We'll tell you when we're sure," he said flatly. "I'm not spending hours getting you to understand something when it might not be right. I hope I'm wrong."

"I don't think you are," Radek said glumly, gazing at his screen unhappily. "Not this time."

It was an hour before they were sure, an hour before they stopped comparing notes and arguing between themselves in worried voices. John, by that time, had taken refuge in one of his comic-books, figuring that if he was about to hear bad news he might as well enjoy the time immediately preceding it. None of the others had gone far, Teyla and Ronon engaged in their own quiet discussion, Elizabeth sitting on her bed working. It was a peaceful scene, if you ignored the crackled tension in the room. No-one knew _what_ was about to go wrong, but there was a certainty that _something_ was.

Finally, Rodney looked up, and shoved the laptop away - apparently his signal that he was done.

"Well?" John prompted, setting his comic down. "What is it this time?"

"You won't like it," Rodney sounded unhappy. "You'd better call the others. The ones from Teyla's group, and Sam's, anyone else you think needs to hear it.. I'm not explaining this twice."

John hesitated. Certainly, there was no question that something was wrong, but Rodney did have a tendency to exaggerate the potential scale of a problem at times. John suspected that sometimes he just _needed_ to build up a problem up bigger, so he could feel better when he fixed it. "You're sure this isn't something we can just deal with ourselves?"

"Oh, for-" Rodney glared at him. "Yes. Yes, I'm sure. What would you like me to tell you to accentuate that this is bad? Would it help if I ran around screaming and crying? Because I can if you want."

"It is not good," Radek confirmed, pushing his glasses back more firmly onto his nose as he peered over the top of his laptop at John. "They will all need to hear this."

"And I'm not explaining it twice," Rodney added. "I only need to deal with all your "really?" and "are you _sure_?" comments once, thank you."

Faced with that, John did as he was told. It didn't take long to send messengers off to the two groups anyway, and the word 'emergency' brought people back quickly enough. They crowded into a corner of the dorm - John wasn't particularly keen on alarming the _whole_ group until he knew he had to.

"Over to you, Rodney," he announced, settling on the corner of a bed. "Tell us what apocalyptic event we have to fear this time."

It was a flippant comment, but it earned him another glare before Rodney started to talk.

"We've been functioning and planning on this idea that we're the plan of last resort - the guys who get to come save the world somehow when everything else has failed," he said.

"Here come the cavalry," John agreed. He'd reached the point by now where he'd mentally decided that whatever is was bothering Rodney, it couldn't possibly make the situation much worse than it already was. It was a relieving sort of decision, one that left him able to view whatever Rodney was about to announce with mild curiosity rather than dread. After all, what was going to be worse than Carson being broken, and a world they had no idea how to save?

Rodney shot him a sharp look. "Yeah, except you were right. Even if it was only by mistake."

"No, it was completely on purpose - hey, what was I right about?" he demanded, trying to rerun their previous conversation mentally. "Space elevator?"

This time, Rodney ignored him. "The fact is, no-one _does_ make a last-chance plan depending on fifteen year olds. Because it would be a... a stupid thing to do, unless you realise how smart we actually are. Which they don't. They might have got as far as taking us up here, but no-one listens to us, do they? Or uses us? Or actually gives us enough information about what we're trying to deal with that we _could_ even have a chance of doing what we're meant to. I mean, half of the information we get is only because I actually hack into the system to get it, and then getting to_ use-_"

"Rodney," Elizabeth interrupted, perhaps sensing that this rant could go on for some time. "Get to the point."

"As I said earlier, if you're going to run an evacuation of somewhere the size of Earth, you don't start it a few months beforehand," Rodney went on. "You start _years_ ahead, and you don't tell anyone so they can't argue about who to prioritize, and you get the most important guys off first, and you find somewhere safe to put them." He paused for a second. "Which they did. We're not the rescue team. We're the evacuation."

It took a second for that to sink in, for that information to get from John's ears to his brain, and by that time the others had already broken into a chorus of questions - why, and how did he know, and was he _sure?_

"_Yes, _I'm sure," Rodney answered that last impatiently. "Do you think we just make emergencies up just to see your reaction?"

"No-one is doubting you, Rodney," Elizabeth said quietly. "But if this is true, it's... big, and we've never picked up anything close to it before."

"We've never been _looking_ for it before," Rodney retorted. "We interpreted what we heard the way we wanted to, because hey, how were we meant to know the guys in charge made a habit of lying to everyone? We've just spent the last hour looking at transcripts, and do you know what they never say we're here to do? Save the world. Always, it's saving humanity. Doesn't that say something to you?"

"It's not exactly... proof, though, is it, Rodney?" John pointed out, his head spinning a little as he tried to think his way around the idea. "Just a matter of phrasing."

"Right, so we didn't _just_ check that," Rodney said. "You know the kids in the years above us? Ever wondered where they ended up? Maybe eight or nine years or graduated kids, all ultra-smart - pretty odd if they don't use _them_ when the world is ending, wouldn't you say?"

"I thought they _were._" That growl came from Ronon. "Didn't your guy in the last meeting say they were being contacted?"

"They are." The agreement didn't sound as though it was a happy thing. "We checked transmissions of all."

"They are all on different worlds," Radek interjected quietly. "They have used a planet for each year. All of them had messages sent to them. But there are no logs on the gates of anyone returning to Earth. Nobody is coming home."

"The oldest would be twenty-three, twenty-four now," Rodney said. "Old enough to at least be able to help out after all the training we're given, don't you think? But you hit sixteen, and graduate, and no-one ever hears of you again. Why? Because they're being used to set up colonies."

"They were angry at Carson because he was not what they are expecting," Radek added. "They tell us to save the world, but they do not expect us to make a try. So, when we do, and it does not go as it should, they are angry because they were not expecting anything to happen that could go wrong."

"And because we damaged their breeding stock," Rodney said, and seemed surprised as half the group suddenly started choking, and the other half blushed furiously. "What? Why _else _do you think they picked us to get off rather than some stupid old guys? They wanted people who were young enough to breed."

"What's your hypothesis here, Rodney?" Sam asked, and John noticed she took care to keep her arms crossed firmly across her chest as she spoke. He didn't blame her. There were some things you didn't need putting in your head at fifteen - or in anyone else's head either. "They prepare an evacuation plan, they start moving off the kids, and... then what? Why put us here, with all the other groups, if not to train us to fight?"

John could answer that though, the answer making too much sense in his head. "Unless it wasn't for us to fight this time, to protect Earth. So that we understand what we're facing, and have a plan when we're older, if Wraith come after us."

"And by doing it this way, we have allies," Elizabeth said slowly, sounding as though she didn't like where her thoughts were going. "Make people think twice about trying to take over a colony if your kids are part of it."

Teyla looked uncomfortable at this, and she wasn't alone. A couple of the other Athosians were starting to glance at each other, murmuring together in low voices. "My people would not have tried to attack a colony of yours, however it was created!"

"Yours wouldn't, maybe," John conceded. "But I bet others would have had a go. And we know what to expect from the others as well. Think of facing the Genii without knowing what we might expect - we wouldn't last a minute."

Rodney waved an impatient hand at them. "Yes, well, I didn't take time to look into the tiny details," he said, sounding a touch annoyed that they'd diverted the discussion. "I'm sure they worked out reasons that seemed perfectly good to them. The point is, at the point where they start referring to the need to _use_ us, they're not expecting us to turn up with any great plan to save them. When they start referring to the Plan of Last Resort, it means that they're expecting to _die._"

That idea passed over them like a wave of cold water, chilling where it touched. John was glad, then, that he hadn't called the whole group over at this, to let them know. There were too many who would have fallen apart still, at the very concept.

He wondered curiously how _he_ felt about it, prodding the emotions from a distance, as with a very long stick. If the world ceased to exist tomorrow - no, that was an idea that was too big to absorb, to fully take in. He needed to break it down, make it real. No more father, no more David, and John wasn't sure how he felt about that exactly. It felt hypocritical, almost, to be heartbroken when he'd almost stopped writing to them entirely, but he'd never wanted them to _die_. He'd wanted them to be happy, even if he'd never been certain how to talk to them at all.

No more Jeannie, and if Rodney related tale after tale about how his parents had favoured his younger sister before he left, that didn't mean he didn't do it with a slight sense of pride. No more of Carson's family - John had wanted _so_ hard, one day, to find out how you could have that many siblings and seem to get on with all of them. No more of Radek's family either, who always tried to send him parcels even though John always got the feeling that they didn't have much at all. No more of Elizabeth's parents, who sent neatly handwritten letters in script so like her own that sometimes John couldn't tell the difference.

No more of the guy down the street that sold ice creams, the ones that his father would sometimes let them get if he was in a good mood. No more comic books - no chance to finally get the missing ones that always seemed to hold intriguing details in the middle of a series. No more skateboards, no more ferris wheels, no more _anything_ any more.

Small things, shallow things, but narrowing it down to them made it suddenly seem a reality, and John felt a stab of grief for the planet he hadn't visited in seven years.

"It needn't be true though," one of Sam's team - John vaguely recognised her as Jennifer - spoke up, seemingly struggling with the same reality. "Or if even it is... they needn't lose. They might still win."

It was Sam who shook her head this time, her face suddenly pinched. John wondered who she was thinking of, what family she had back there who might suddenly be snatched away. "They'd destroy the gate," she said, as though coming to horrible realisation. "It would be the only way to be sure the Wraith wouldn't follow. Destroy the gate, and anything holding the addresses. Evacuate anyone who had the addresses in their heads at the last minute - they'd be important enough that you'd want to save them anyway. Leave Earth to do what it could."

"It wouldn't matter that everyone died - in the big picture, I mean," Rodney amended hastily. "They would have got enough out that humanity would survive. As they keep saying."

"Not everyone would die." The voice was quiet, tired, and it took John a moment to realise that it came from behind him. He swivelled, and wondered just how long Carson had been standing there, a fragile pyjama-clad figure. He moved up hastily, giving him room to sit down. "It would be... a lot. But it wouldn't be everybody on Earth. Some would survive."

The pause that greeted this announcement, John knew, was not so much because he had said, but because no-one knew how to react to him joining them. Those who knew what had happened were caught between relief that he seemed to have resurfaced, and worry for him. Those who didn't were casting anxious curious looks at each other. In a minute, maybe, someone was going to ask what had happened, and not only was that likely to divert entirely from the crisis at hand, but he wasn't sure Carson could cope with the explanation.

Fine, then. If no-one else could act normal, he would. But as he opened his mouth, trying to think of a question to ask which wouldn't sound _too_ inane, Elizabeth beat him to it, and John mentally blessed her for it.

"You've studied the possibility?" It was half-question, half-statement. Elizabeth asked it gently, but she was at least _trying_ to be normal. "How bad do you think it would be?"

"Bad." Carson looked exhausted still as he sat down next to John, dark rings surrounding puffy eyes. But he was talking, and that had to be a start. "Terrible, in fact. But not.. not extinction. Not_ everyone._ We.." He stumbled for a minute over the word, and John reached awkwardly to pat his shoulder, as though the brief gesture could soothe the pain of the word. "We were studying the physiology, and the other information that's been gathered. Think of it as... as thirty thousand humans trying to eat through every cow on Earth."

"They have never seemed to wish to wipe us out," one of Teyla's group, Halling, offered. "They come, they take many of us, but then they leave again."

It made sense in a horrible kind of way. "Right," John said grimly. "Because you don't want to eat all your cows. You want them to keep breeding, so you'll still have a burger when you want one tomorrow."

Somehow, the thought didn't seem to cheer anybody up very much.

"I'd really like it if someone in this whole thing didn't seem to have a stake in me breeding," Rodney said abruptly. "I mean, I can work out a way to prove the existence of alternative universes, and apparently what matters is my ability to reproduce? Besides, I never really considered myself the stud type."

The comment drew a snort from Sam. "Believe me," she murmured, just loud enough to be audible, "neither did anybody else."

"Still," John said hastily, seeing Rodney flush and pre-empting the inevitable argument, "if we outnumber them so much then.. even if they got to invasion, we'd have a chance, right? I mean, not straight away, maybe, but.. long-term? Sooner or later as a group, we could win, just by sheer numbers."

"I appreciate your cock-eyed optimism, but it doesn't work." Rodney shot the idea down immediately. "Think basic food chain. No-one knows how long these things take to breed, but sooner or later a glut of prey means a massive rise in the number of predators. You're assuming we could pull ourselves together before that happens."

"And you have to take down a surprisingly small number of humans before things start to break down," Sam offered for once agreeing with him. "Think of all the things people depend on - there aren't that many people who know how to run an electricity plant if everyone currently able to run one suddenly dies. And they might, if the Wraith just choose to attack in the wrong place first. Even other stuff - if the banks close, and the ATMs stop being refilled people suddenly can't get money. So, they go to looting, and things break down from there."

"Oh, c'mon!" It was hard for John to cope with so much blackness, with the idea that there might not be hope to be found _anywhere._ "People have coped without those things before we had them!"

"It is easier to be taking a step forwards than a step backwards," Radek said apologetically, looking troubled. "It is possible, when you are needing to, but it is not easy. People die."

"It would be a long time before it looked anything like Earth again." Carson was somber, his usual smile gone from his eyes. "Centuries."

"Okay, okay," John said, trying to think. "So, what you're all saying is that the guys in charge have already pretty much decided that Earth is doomed, we're not being given resources to save it because what they actually want is for us to sit safely over here and breed them new colonies, and if there is a successful invasion there's a fairly large chance the planet will be brought to its knees. And even if it isn't, they're probably going to blow the gate up so there's no getting home. Does that sum things up?"

The silence he received in response said it did. No-one seemed ready to look at anyone else, and a couple of kids seemed close to tears.

"Right." He stood abruptly, feeling anger surging in him - fury at the whole universe for putting them in such a stupid impossible situation. "_No-one_ tells anyone else about this. And we carry on as normal until we find a way out of this."

"But, I just said-" Rodney started to protest, and John just knew a statement as to the general unlikelyhood of succeeding was coming next.

"No!" He turned on him with enough sharpness in his tone that Rodney shut his mouth again and looked surprised. "You said that _they_ didn't think we could fix this. Well, they don't know us, and they don't know what we can do. We've already gone a load further than they thought was possible. We keep looking until we find a way out of this. What else are we gonna do - sit on our asses and wait for everyone on Earth to die?"

No-one argued this time. Most of them looked a little stunned.

"Besides," John finished, still feeling that fury driving behind him, "we don't leave guys behind. I'm damn sure I'm not leaving a whole _planet!"_

* * *

John wasn't used to hearing odd noises in the night. Those in the dorms were usually _caused_ by him, one way or another, but as he had been fast asleep this time he was fairly certain he wasn't guilty.

He came awake quickly enough that it took a couple of moments before he was certain what had woken him, before he could identify the odd snuffled breathing as something which was Not Normal. Once he did though, he sat up, suddenly wide awake.

"Carson? Hey, Carson." He murmured it, keeping his voice low. No need to tell the whole room what was going on. When there was no response, he scrambled out of bed, easily making his way to Carson's in the dark. It was a good thing they'd gotten into the habit of keeping the floor tidy, else it might have been a whole lot harder.

Getting there though, turned out to be the easy part. Working out what to do once he was standing over Carson's bed, that was harder.

"Carson?" Eight years of highly advanced lessons, and no-one had bothered to tell you what to do in the middle of the night when one of your best friends was sobbing into his pillow. Figured that they would miss out the really useful stuff. John hesitated, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. "Hey."

Carson didn't even look up, and that was just a bit scary. When you weren't in good enough state to try to paste yourself back together and at least try to insist you were fine, you really weren't in a good state at all. Elizabeth would have known what to say or do, but Elizabeth was asleep, and trying to find a path to _her_bed probably wasn't going to happen without crashing into something or waking the wrong person. John didn't know what to say or do.. but he was all there was, so he was just going to have to work it out.

"Hey, c'mon." He reached out awkwardly, resting a hand on Carson's back. "At least _look_ at me. I know I'm not good at this, but..."

It got a reaction at least, but the face Carson raised from the pillow was so flushed and crumpled it made his heart hurt.

None of the phrases he'd heard flitting around seemed to fit. _"It's all right"_ and _"it'll be okay"_ were no good when it already blatantly wasn't. He could tell him not to cry, but.. were you meant to do that? He had a vague idea that it was meant to be good to cry but it sure didn't look so good, and wow, _why_ didn't they have lessons on this stuff exactly?

"Bad night?" he offered eventually, having mentally exhausted all other options, and Carson nodded weakly. As though it weren't already obvious.

Unfortunately, that was about the limit of John's stock of decent phrases for situations like this, and silence didn't give him much lead on where to go next. "I s'pose pulling faces to make you laugh again won't help," he mused quietly, when the silence dragging on got too much to bear, and Carson responded with an odd noise, closer to a sob than a laugh, and abruptly covered his face with his hands.

"Don't!" Had he screwed it up? It felt as though he had, and John's brain kicked into utter panic mode. He was going to screw this up if he hadn't already, he was going to screw this up _badl_y because he had no idea what to do in these situations, and then maybe Carson would be broken forever somehow because he didn't know what to say to fix this. Instinct said to put his arm around him, and John hugged him tightly as though he could just_ crush_ the misery away, stumbling over words, trying to find something to stop it, as though if he tried enough words one might be the magic cure.

"C'mon, Carson, I know I'm saying the wrong thing, and Elizabeth would say the right things, but I'm not her and I'm not good at this and.. and if I go try and wake her up I know I'm going to fall over a chair or something, and then everyone will be awake. I... I will if you want though. I'd do _anything_ if you wanted me to - I was going to go punch ol' Woolsey even, but Elizabeth said that was probably not a good idea, and Rodney thought it'd just get me sent home, so I didn't. It's not fair, 'cause it wasn't your fault, and everyone _knows_ it wasn't your fault. You tried to stop everything, when we would have made you go and do it, and I'm sorry for that. We should have stopped and listened and no-one did, and I'm sorry, and I... I wish I could just _stop _this now, because it's not fair-"

He was barely conscious of _what_ he was saying, babbling desperately on through a mist of terror at the idea of getting this wrong, just keeping on with the talking and the hugging and the hope that if he did both enough maybe somehow it would magically be okay.

"You're... crushing me.." When the muffled protest came finally, it was almost an excuse to breathe again. That almost felt like a _normal_ thing to say. Obligingly John relaxed his grip, still peering at his friend anxiously.

"Feeling better?" he said hopefully.

"Mm." It wasn't really agreement, but at least Carson seemed to have run out of tears for now. John watched, still perched on the side of the bed, as he sat up and scrubbed at his face.

"I just can't lose anyone else," he said after a minute, as though feeling he owed an explanation - as though the events of the past few days weren't enough to be self-explanatory. "And not... not _everyone_, just like that. I just started thinking and... then I couldn't stop."

John nodded, understanding what he meant. A mental chorus of 'lalala' every time he started to think too long about this afternoon's discussion was all that had really kept him from panicking about it himself, and that wasn't going to be enough forever. "It's not going to happen," he said quietly, voice fierce. "I don't care what they think. We're not going to let it happen like that."

Carson just looked at him, something almost pitying under the tired unhappiness. "John," he said gently. "You can't just- saying something in a firm voice doesn't make it_ true._"

"I'm going to _make_ it true," John promised, without a moment's hesitation. Anything if it made things better. "I just don't know how yet, that's all."

It didn't seem to work. Carson eyed him for a moment or two, and then rubbed at his face again. "I'm going back to sleep now."

"Right." Had he helped? Had he made things worse? John wasn't sure, but he took the hint, shifting off Carson's bed. He trod on something soft in the dark, and thought for a moment it was some strange really knobbly pillow before he bent to pick it up.

It wasn't a pillow. John's hand closed on it and he started, staring at the old, battered bear silently for a moment, wondering how much Carson had been in need of comfort to dig that out. Wordlessly, he returned it to the bed before finding his way back to his own bed. He spent the hours left to morning staring at his ceiling and trying to think.

Somehow, he had to fix this. He just didn't know how yet.

* * *

It was a need that persisted the next morning, and drove him back out into the old abandoned section. He didn't know what he was hunting _for_ exactly, but he knew he would recognise it when he found it.

He also knew that Rodney was coming with him. Not that Rodney _wanted_ to, but John wasn't really giving him a choice either way so that hardly mattered. He wanted company and, if he happened to stumble across something he didn't understand, another brain. Rodney conveniently provided both.

That, and the constant litany of complaints provided welcome distraction from worrying about Carson. "You do realise that people _die_ in places like this? Old abandoned corridors - there could be anything down here."

"That is kinda why we're looking, Rodney," John pointed out. He eyed the doors at the end of the corridor for a moment. "I'm hoping that there'll be an "anything" that'll manage to save everyone."

"Or there'll be a "nothing" that will kill us both," Rodney said morbidly. "Do we even know if they checked these rooms for lifeforms? Poisonous bugs? Man-eating monsters even?"

"I don't believe we do, no," John replied cheerfully. He opened a door into a particularly dusty room and sneezed. "You could always work on something to check for that when we get back."

"Because it's that easy. I'll just make one in a couple of minutes out of a coathanger and a few bits of wire, shall I?" Rodney suggested with dripping sarcasm. "Better to do it this morning and then I've got all afternoon to discover the secret of eternal life. Not like I'm working on anything more important, after all."

"Bet Radek could do it," John said, just because it was fun to see Rodney scowl and take that as a challenge. If some kind of lifeform-checking prototype wasn't in progress by tomorrow he would be very surprised. "What are you working on anyway? The alternative universes thing still?"

He didn't expect to see Rodney flush and look away. That was a guilty expression if ever he'd seen one, and his curiosity was prickled. Either his friend had accidently destroyed something he shouldn't again, or something was up. "Rodney?"

"It might not come to anything." Rodney mumbled it, more than said it. "It's just theoretical yet anyway, just to see if it'd work. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with the idea, not really.."

"Rodney." He'd had practice now at injecting just a touch of warning into his tone. You had to learn, if you were to spend much time around Rodney. "What are you working on?"

Rodney frowned and kicked at a patch of dust, making them both cough. "An evacuation plan."

That made John blink. "But, I thought you said-"

"A very _small_ evacuation plan," Rodney interrupted, before he could finish. "Look, if we can't get everyone off, that's no reason not to get anyone off, is it? And it's not as though _they_ won't all be trying it - getting out whoever they decide is important, rich people most likely. I'm just gonna make sure certain people make the priority list."

There was something in the way he said it, as prickly and defensive as Rodney had ever been, that made John automatically open his mouth, ready to tell him he shouldn't. His brain caught up before he could get the words out though, absorbing _what_ he had said. "Jeannie?" he asked, more gently than he had first meant to. "And your parents?"

Rodney nodded, looking hunched and guilty still, as though he were waiting for John to yell about it. "And the others' families too. I mean.. when you think about it, it's only a tiny proportion we'd have to use to get them all out and to here, at least in proportion to everything else they'll be doing. It's not even as though we're _stealin_g resources anyway - just diverting them. To the people we want to use them."

"That is kinda the definition of stealing, Rodney," John pointed out, but he couldn't quite bring himself to sound annoyed about it, for all that Rodney's tone suggested he should. Technically it was wrong, but if technically being right saved guys like Woolsey over their own families, what good would it do anyone? He didn't want it to be needed, but if it was anyway.. "It's workable?"

"Easily. You'd only have to get them through the gate," Rodney said promptly. "We'd have to take control of the gate, but I don't see why that's not possible, not when they're gonna be focusing all their attention on fighting the Wraith anyway. The hardest thing I think would be contacting Radek's family and getting them flown there but.. it's managable." He hesitated, squinting at John questioningly. "You're not mad?"

Was he? He thought he probably should be, but after a moment he shook his head. Could he say no, and face them afterwards, if everyone was lost? "No," he granted. "Evacuation makes sense. We're gonna keep fighting, but... just in case."

"Right. Just in case your plan for saving the world doesn't pan out," Rodney agreed, only sounding a little sarcastic that time.

"We don't just give in, Rodney," John said firmly. "Just don't tell Elizabeth, okay?" He had a suspiscion that her conscience would hurt her, if she know. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Rodney nodded, and it was a minute before the urge to comment on their situation apparently overcame him again. "So, does your plan actually only consist of walking through a million dusty rooms and hoping that a solution will leap out and hit you in the face, or is there more to it?"

"Well, I suppose I could just ask the city to find a solution for me-" John started to respond, and stopped as the door in front of them opened, as though in response.

Rodney stopped still, staring for a moment. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah. I suppose you could, couldn't you?"

Tentative slow exploration became a sprint, even Rodney forgetting to complain and starting to move faster as door after door opened in front of them. It was a treasure hunt led by the city, and while they didn't know what they would come to find at the end of it that couldn't quench the excitement. They were _going_ somewhere now, no longer just wandering but certain that something would be at the end of the journey.

John was the first to make it through the final door, fitter, finding it easier to race ahead, but Rodney wasn't far behind, breathless and panting but determined not to miss out on seeing. He almost crashed into John as he hesitated at the doorway.

"What? I... I thought we.. were finding something?"

John shook his head, eyes wide as he stared at the room in front of him. You looked, and you searched, and you hoped, but when the world actually did pull a solution out of a magic hat, it was hard to believe that it was true. "I think this might be it."

The room was huge, and filled with consoles - all with dark screens now, and thick with dust. In the center there was a massive chair, and John wondered what that was used for. Most likely it was where the guy running things sat and decided what to do next.

Suddenly, he_ really _wanted to be the guy who got to sit in that chair.

"Let me see, let me _see,_" Rodney demanded, squeezing past him. "Quit blocking the doorwa-oh." For a moment, he too was silent as he took in the room, gazing around. "Well," he said pensively. "I suppose a couple of them _might_ still work."

John grinned, hearing the thrill that Rodney couldn't quite hide with those words. "Sure they will. You'll have them up and running in no time. And then after that, we can figure out what they actually do."

"I don't know if they'll even be connected to the power in the rest of the city!" Rodney's words said one thing, but his actions said another, lovingly brushing the consoles free of dust. Later, John might tell him how much of the muck had promptly relocated itself to his face, but for now it was more fun just to watch him, grubby and trying not to look too excited as he ran his fingers over the equipment.

Not that he likely looked all that much better. He'd never been a school of the "look, but don't touch" philosophy, and it would have been almost painful to keep away from the room's contents. Far better to explore it, coughing as the dust rose up in clouds around them, rushing from one end to the room to another in an attempt to take in more.

"They're not turning on," Rodney complained, predictably frustrated in about five seconds. "Best case scenario, the power's got disconnected, and just needs rerouting. Worst case, computers left for god knows how long don't actually work any more."

"They're certainly out of their warranty period," John agreed, peering at them. "What do you think they were used for?"

Rodney hesitated, but didn't manage to hide his expression. He was too easy to read, and there was excitement and hope in his face that made John want to jump up and down and cheer. "Rodney! Quit holding out on me."

"If I tell you, you're gonna blame me if they don't turn on or aren't that after all," Rodney complained. "Fine, best guess from the fact the city decided you needed to be here, and what I can see, is that it's some kind of weird weapons system. And by "weird" I mean, even if I manage to get them to turn on, I don't see any controls here so I don't see how you'd work it."

"You'll work it out," John said with cheerful confidence.

"Yeah. I suppose the first thing's gonna be to find the disconnect. After that, if we get the laptops down here we could always try connecting them up directly, and controlling from there.." Rodney seemed more to talking to himself than John now, focusing in the job in front of him. "Let's see, nearest ZPM would be.."

It was a job that sounded as though it would take some time for him to work out, and why should he stand around watching when there was a huge comfortable-looking chair right there? It seemed perfectly natural for John to flop down into it, leaning back and letting himself fantasize for a moment. He could be in charge of a room like _this_ and there would be people everywhere - a thriving control room, with people at the monitors, and people running in and out and-

_-and he could feel the city, all of it, as though it were an extension to his own body. As easy and naturally attached as any limb, making change or movement as easy as flexing a muscle. He had only to think it to fire a gun, to launch an attack, to move. It was him, and he was the city, and what was more natural than that?_

He opened his eyes. He couldn't remember shutting them, but Rodney was there, inches away and looking scared as he peered at him, and the room.. the room was suddenly ablaze with light.

"Didn't I tell you to let me test equipment before you try to use it?" Rodney demanded, and John felt just a little guilty because he sounded as though he'd got a bad fright. "You don't test Ancient equipment by just_ sitting_ in it!"

"I think I figured out how it works?" he offered as consolation, and then found himself grinning at the memory, grinning because of the memory and the fact that his head was suddenly full of _things_ - too many to explain coherently. "And Rodney - Rodney, listen. _I think we might have a chance!"_

***

David Shepard didn't do foolishness very well, and flying in to another country on a wild goose chase thanks to a phonecall out of the blue certainly qualified.

Flying in to another country to meet up with a _little girl_ wasn't just foolishness, but probably edging on criminal. He'd realised that the voice sounded young over the phone, but not _this_ young. It was difficult not to squirm, and glance around the little cafe, looking for plain clothes policemen, angry parents or photographers to burst out of nowhere. There would be a fuss, and probably blackmail, and his father would kill him right after reading him the lecture on how you didn't walk into stupid situations like this. Really there was no believable explanation that made "eighteen year old boy flew to Canada to meet ten year old girl" sound pretty.

And the girl seemed perfectly unaware of the set-up - because it _had_ to be a set-up really, didn't it? Someone after his father's money, or just a really good story for their front page. But she'd just grinned when he turned up at the arranged meeting place, grinned and walked up while he was looking for the woman he was meant to meet, and said "I bet you're John's brother. I'm Jeannie." And he'd been so thrown, so surprised, that instead of doing what he _should_ have done and turning right back around and getting the first plane home, he'd let her lead him to the nearest cafe and bought her a coke.

At least they'd managed to stay in large places full of people. There would be no implications that he'd been _alone_ with her anyway.

"So," he said finally, when it seemed that no-one was about to burst in on them _right now_ in any case, "what trouble has young John got himself into this time?" Because that had been the implication he'd heard over the phone, and if he'd been dismayed by it he was hardly surprised. Hadn't he been waiting eight years, after all, for John to get himself kicked out of the fancy school he'd landed a place in? If there was a surprise, it was only that it had taken so long for it to happen. And here he was, like a mug, ready to bail his younger brother out, but it was easier all around than letting their father know.

Still, if they'd sent Jeannie, it wasn't going to be that after all. No school, however weird, was going to employ a ten year old to deliver messages like that. _Much_ more likely to be a set-up.

Jeannie dimpled at him merrily though, as though the question was the funniest thing she'd heard in ages. "Is your brother like that as well? Mer's like that. I s'pose that's why they get on so well."

"Mer?" She said it as though he should know the name, and David could only look at her blankly.

"My brother. Doesn't John mention him in his letters? Mer simply _raves_ about John. I guess John'd call him Rodney though - that's his middle name."

It was hardly the place to explain the letters between them, now down to brief notes which barely confirmed more than that everyone concerned was alive and well. David nodded instead, as though that made sense, and let the subject drop. "The two of them are in trouble then? I suppose they need someone to buy their way out again?" What else would bring the prodigal son to contact home again after all, other than money?

Jeannie hesitated though, some of the bright cheerfulness in her face dying. "It's a little like that, I suppose," she admitted slowly, "but really, it's more like the whole _world_ is in trouble, and they need us to help."

It sounded, at best, like a little girl dragging an adult into her fancies. At worst, it could be some kind of weird fraud. It was difficult for David to look at her without suspicion. Still, he'd come this far, he might as well at least hear her out. "Go on, then," he said grudgingly. "What have the pair of them managed to get into?"

She beamed again, as though him having just that much trust in her was enough to make her happy. David wondered if she resembled her brother. If so, it was difficult not to imagine him, some happy, trusting boy, following John around, letting himself be dragged into John's wild schemes..

The question really was how long he could keep it from their father. And whether he _should._

"I suppose I should start at the school," Jeannie said slowly. "Or maybe the aliens. Or - or, the email. Let me show you the email!"

She reached for her backpack - pink, David noticed, and painted with large colourful flowers - and dragged a bundle full of papers at it. "Y'see, I figured that they were filtering the letters, so I thought we needed to find some other way to stay in touch. Just for emergencies."

David nodded, reaching already for the bundle of papers, and soon found himself settling to listen to the most incredible story in his life, related by a ten year old girl.


	10. Rodney 15

"...which should give you enough supplies to see you through the next few years there. After that, you should be managing self-sufficiently," Kinsey's voice said matter-of-factly. "If nothing else, you have people with the training and resources they would require to take required sustenance by force."

"I'm sure you'll be coping by that time," O'Neill's voice was brisk. "Breeding space-cows or something."

Woolsey nodded numbly, trying not to look too dismayed as he stared into his monitor. The time for face-to-face meetings was long-past now. The time, the resources to ship people to Atlantis and back again just for a meeting simply couldn't be spared any more.

"You should have sufficient medical supplies to see you through," Fraiser added. "And the doctors. How's young Carson doing by the way?"

"He's-" It was difficult not to look guilty. The realization that he just _might_ have done something horribly and terribly _wrong_ there had come too late for Woolsey to fix it. "He's a little quiet. I'm sure he'll be capable of working effectively once he's through the shock."

"Let's all hope so." The coolness in her voice left him in no doubt that Fraiser had heard exactly what had happened. "Were we not in the situation we're in-" she started threateningly.

"But we are," O'Neill interrupted smoothly. "And we're running low on time and power, so let's not waste time on fantasy-land, shall we? Everyone clear on what happens when everything goes to hell?"

"You'll fire the gate once the first Wraith ship makes it to landing." Woolsey gave the answer reluctantly, hating it. Hating the idea of being stranded on this damn world, which he'd never wanted to come to in the first place, almost as much as he hated the idea of what would happen on the planet they left behind.

"Hold on, hold on, _we_ get out first, don't we?" A voice protested hastily, and Woolsey could hear the rustling of someone hastily looking through papers.

He heard O'Neill sigh. "Yes, Maybourne, you get to fling yourself through the gate before the Wraith decide you're a tasty snack. All part of the plan to make sure they can't use anyone who knows gate addresses -- though personally, I was in favor of shooting you."

Woolsey might have managed a smile at that, or at least at the noise of Maybourne choking that followed it, had the situation not been so serious.

"I notice the plans don't seem to allow for _you_ getting back through, O'Neill," Fraiser observed. "When exactly are you planning on evacuating?"

"I'm working on the theory that the last glorious stand which unexpectedly beats back the enemy hordes can't actually happen if the guy running the show decides to get the hell out of dodge halfway through." He said it calmly, matter-of-factly, as though discussing something other than the likelihood of his coming death. "Besides, no offense, but I'd rather face Wraith than spend an eternity on a planet the size of Atlantis with half of you guys."

"You do realize that adding 'no offense' to the end of insulting comments doesn't actually make them any less insulting?" Maybourne commented.

"Yeah," O'Neill agreed, "but I always figured that you guys were too stupid to notice. No offense."

Kinsey cleared his throat. "I must say that our plans for fighting look a little.. sparse. Surely we can do better than this? What happened to the Antarctic base we used last time they invaded?"

"We used it," O'Neill said flatly. "It's kinda a 'one time only' deal. We needed it, we used it, it's gone. In the absence of someone magically producing Ancients to fix the thing up again and add another load of drones, that's it."

"A little careless to use it up before the worst danger had arrived, some might say," Kinsey suggested.

Even through the monitor it was possible to see O'Neill's eyes flash, and his back straighten sharply. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? I mean, I personally thought 'oh, here we are being invaded, we've got a load drones at our disposal to stop them, but we don't want to use them just yet so let's sit back and let our people get eaten', Seems other people objected to the idea of twiddling our thumbs while people got their souls sucked out though. Go figure."

"There _is_ a plan though, isn't there?" Woolsey said uneasily. "To fight them back?" Theory and planning was one thing, but facing up to the idea that this was real, that it wasn't a rehearsal for a theoretical situation but something that was actually going to happen.. it was harder.

"No, we're just sitting here humming cheerful little songs, waiting for the Wraith to come," O'Neill said sharply. "Or Maybourne is at least -- yes, there's a plan, and don't be such an idiot. We're not quite at the stage of lying down and waiting for death to take us yet. We're just shorter on weapons…viable weapons and ships than I'd like us to be."

"We could, of course, go back to the alternative plan," Kinsey suggested calmly.

"We could accidentally forget to keep you on the access list for the last minute trip through the stargate," O'Neill retorted. "No, and we're not discussing it again."

"The alternative plan?" Woolsey knew somehow that he was going to regret asking, but curiosity was prickled nonetheless.

"Cut off the Wraith's food supply on arrival. There isn't _that_ much within traveling distance that it could sustain the full number we expect to arrive," Kinsey said briefly. "We'd kill more than we'd kill through ground-fighting using sheer starvation. And it would be kinder."

_Kinder_. It took a second for Woolsey to catch on. "You're talking-"

"He's talking genocide on a massive scale," Fraiser said flatly. "And I agree with O'Neill. Don't even think it."

"It would be a better way to go than Wraith!" Kinsey protested.

"Not for those who would have survived," O'Neill said, and that seemed to bring an end to the subject. "Are we done? Some of us have thumbs to go twiddle."

* * *

**Rodney**

Life had suddenly become incredibly busy, but it was busy in a _good_ way, Rodney decided. The bits and pieces of Ancient technology they'd previously been allowed to handle were nothing compared with _this_. Just looking at it made his hands itch with the need to pull the whole room apart, find out how it worked, and then trying putting it together again, but better. John wouldn't let him try, of course, but that didn't mean he _wanted_ to any less.

There was still plenty to do, nonetheless. John's reaction to big weapons he could control with his mind might be to rhapsodize about how _cool_ they were, but someone had to sit down, work out what they actually had, what those things should actually be capable of. Someone had to actually stop enthusing for a minute about the amount of firepower they suddenly had at their disposal and work out where it all fitted into the system and how it was powered and whether there was _enough_ power.

It was very difficult for him to make faces as though he minded all of this when it was basically the coolest thing he'd ever seen in his entire life.

It had been enough to brighten even Carson up a little. He'd watched the whole thing with a sort of quietly amused tolerance as they raced about, babbling about ZPMs and superweapons, but that wasn't sufficient to stop them dragging him down there one day, determined that he should catch their enthusiasm.

"You won't get the idea of it until you actually _see_ it," Rodney insisted, practically towing him along. "Do you even understand what level of technology we're talking about here? The entire thing is controlled _using your mind_! I haven't even worked out how that's _possible_ yet without wiring things up directly to your brain, but I figure it must be the same technology that allows you to open the doors at work. There has to be some kind of invisible network with constant receivers working to pick up whatever your brain is transmitting at any given moment. Of course, it wouldn't be sensible to allow people to transmit orders to fire massive weapons from anywhere in the city with their minds -- not when you consider that back then practically everyone would have had the power to run it -- so they must have created a location to ensure that any orders for that particular system could be trusted as reliable and secure."

"Basically, it's awesome," John agreed cheerfully, following along. "Like all of a sudden discovering you've got two arms, two legs, and oh, hey, thousands of little drone ships to attack things with. And some really _big_ guns."

"That sounds uh.. really creepy, actually." For some reason, Carson didn't seem to react with the same perfectly natural excitement at the whole idea. "But, you know, I have my own work to do, and you guys seem like you've got this under control.."

"You haven't touched your own work in days," Rodney said truthfully. "You've just been ignoring it, ever since you got yelled at."

"Rodney!" John's glare seemed to suggest that this was not the best, or most tactful way, to persuade him.

"I'm just saying that it'd probably be good for him to have something new to work on to distract him," Rodney protested.

"I am right here," Carson pointed out mildly. "Thank you though, I think, but seriously, I'm sure it's very exciting to you guys, but massive mind-controlled weapons aren't really my thing."

"Don't be such a baby." The prospect of someone new to explain it all to was too much for Rodney to let him escape without a fight. "This is an unparalleled opportunity to view Ancient technology. Just wait 'til you try it."

"_Try_ it?" Carson didn't just pale, he turned a very odd color of green and tried to back up several steps.

"Rodney!" John grabbed his arm before he could go anywhere. "We weren't going to tell him that yet!"

"_Yet?_" Carson yelped the word. "You are not bloody well plugging my brain into some weird technology! Why can't you get someone else to do it? Ask Radek!"

"Radek can't do anything with the city even _with_ the way you managed to change everyone so it works," Rodney reasoned with him. "_You _could get the city to open the doors for you from day one. If anyone's going to be able to get it to run properly, it's you."

"And John," Carson protested, "who you already have, so you don't really need.."

"If anything happens to me, we need to know someone else can run it," John chipped in cheerfully. "Just as a back-up."

"That's very understandable, but I know medical stuff. I'm not really a shooting super-weapons with my brain type of person!"

It took a mix of talking to him soothingly and not allowing him to run away to get him to what they were already referring to as the chair-room. It seemed a reasonable sort of name, as John pointed out. After all, it had a chair. Carson eyed it as though he were distinctly less than impressed.

"It's.. a chair," he said carefully. "Looks very comfortable, I'm sure. Can I go now?"

"No." Rodney prodded him towards it firmly. "Sit down."

"I don't want to!" Carson protested, almost in a wail, digging his feet into the floor.

"Look," John said reasonably. "No one's going to make you do anything you don't want to-"

"You already are!"

"-but all we want you to do is sit down for a few seconds. Just for us. It won't hurt, will it?"

"I don't know," Carson said, eying the chair as though just touching it might be enough to burn through skin. "Will it?"

"No!" John said. He sounded exasperated now, but Rodney decided it was probably better to let him do the persuading. His persuading seemed to rarely get him the outcome he wanted. "No, of course it won't. You know we wouldn't ask you to do anything that was bad for you. We just want you to sit down for a few seconds, and then you can go, I promise."

Carson hesitated, looking halfway convinced. "Just for a few seconds and we're done?"

"Just a few seconds and we're done," John agreed, spreading his hands as though that could prove something.

Carson didn't seem wholly convinced of the painlessness of the affair, not from the way he screwed up his face as though expecting to go into untold agonies. He gripped the arms of the chair, sitting hastily, quickly -- Rodney suspected his intent was to just brush the seat and then be up and away again.

It didn't work like that. As before, as soon as Carson was even touching the seat the room was alight, every console suddenly kicking into life. He fell back into the chair, not even seeming to realize, shocked and focusing on something no one else could see.

"Did that happen before?" John asked in a low voice.

"Scarier," Rodney confirmed. "I thought you'd electrocuted yourself. Did I mention just doing that the first time was incredibly stupid by the way?"

Then something happened which hadn't happened before.

It felt at first like an earthquake, except you didn't get earthquakes here in Atlantis. The ground moved under them, shifting in a sudden jolt that knocked John and Rodney to the floor, tumbling them into a heap. There was a moment of stunned confusion and then Rodney was up on his feet, pulling away and towards the consoles, making his way by clinging to things in case things moved again. John followed, peering over Rodney's shoulder as he tapped his way through various screens.

"What happened?"

"Shut up, shut up, I'm checking," Rodney waved at him impatiently, his eyes widening as reading after reading confirmed his initial hypothesis. "We.. wow."

"What?" John demanded, still staring over his shoulder at the screen.

Rodney spun to face him, gripping his arms, face glowing with excitement. "We're about five hundred feet above the ground."

"_What?_" John said again, but that time had a different sound to it and he stared at Rodney, mouth slowly widening into a grin. "We're _flying?_"

"The whole _city_ is flying," Rodney crowed, resisting, with an effort, the urge to do a little dance on the spot in celebration. "We can _fly!_"

A moment later, his stomach seemed to swoop upwards, and he found himself in a heap with John yet _again_ as the ground plunged from under their feet. There was a crash, and a judder, and a large amount of the room's remaining dust seemed to relocate itself on top of them.

"Flying's great, gotta work on the landing technique," John said reflectively, once he'd got his breath back, eying the ceiling from his position on the floor. Rodney suspected he wasn't the only one who thought staying still might be the best way to keep his dinner down for a couple of minutes.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" a voice from the chair demanded. Apparently upset made Carson sound even more Scottish than usual. "And if either of you tell me that the earth just moved for you, I will _no_t be at all amused!"

The explanation that when he'd wanted to run away the whole _city_ had tried to run with him didn't seem to soothe his feelings, or stop his repeated reminders that they had _promised_ that a few seconds would be all he'd have to do. Perhaps that was a good thing, because it meant Rodney didn't have to work on persuading John not to have another go right now, straight away, no waiting needed. Stomach issues aside, there was no way that people wouldn't have already noticed that their city had suddenly decided to jump about a bit. Taking it for a quick wander around the galaxy would probably be a trip too far, and Rodney still had to work out how much _power_ the thing was eating. A fine pickle they'd be in if they suddenly ran out of fuel in the middle of nowhere.

Still, at least two of them set off back to the dorm in high spirits, even if Carson was still scowling and muttering about, "Never again!" Two out of three couldn't be bad.

It was probably to be expected that their little adventure should have attracted some attention. They could hear an alarm going off somewhere as they neared the occupied part of the city again, and as they got closer they bumped into another group. Clearly someone else was coming down to investigate what was going on.

Rodney stiffened for a moment -- he still hadn't forgotten being grabbed by Kolya some years ago. But that was when he was on his own, and there had been about fifty of them -- no one went around on their own anymore after that. They were bigger now, and besides none of these guys had ever shown any sign of being unfriendly to them before. Oberoth's group were all a bit too politely formal to be anyone's best friends ever -- Rodney had complained once that they thought too much of themselves, and John had laughed and laughed -- but they seemed to keep themselves to themselves rather than bothering anyone else.

John smiled at them, but then John was friendly with _everyone_. If there was a world out there with aliens with a hundred limbs, John would probably march right up and find a hand to shake. "Hey, Oberoth. Exploring?"

The other boy frowned at them, seeming to study them for a moment. "There was a disturbance," he said abruptly, and Rodney hoped Carson's guilty expression didn't give them away.

John though had always been great at lying like a pro. "Yeah, we felt it too," he agreed easily. "We were just heading back to see what it was. Anyone know what's happening yet?"

"No." They all seemed to be looking at Carson, and really Rodney couldn't blame them. He seemed to be slowly turning a deeper and deeper shade of red.

"Well, I guess we should head back to make sure all our guys are okay," John said. "That sounds like an alarm going off up there. Catch you guys later?"

He moved as though to brush past them, and Rodney relaxed because they'd got away with it. They might _suspect_ something was up, but they couldn't prove anything and there was no way they were gonna discover the chair room without the city helping. Ha, and even if they did what were they going to do about it? It wasn't as though they could do anything _with_ it. Unless you had someone with Ancient genes to help you out it was just a room filled with dead machines.

And then one of the guys near the back of the group moved suddenly, and for a moment Rodney thought he had a weapon and opened his mouth to yell a warning to John. It was too late though, too too late, because the guy had no weapon, just his fingers, and, oh, god, did he just _stick his fingers into John's head_ and-

And whatever he intended to do, it didn't matter, because apparently John had better reflexes than he thought, and hit him. Hard. The guy staggered back, and there was a dead silence for a moment, as John rubbed his head looking a little confused. Long enough for Rodney to count and realize that, it didn't matter if they had rules about not going about on their own any more, because three against twenty-five still wasn't good odds.

"Run!" he suggested, and they did, grabbing John's arms to haul him along with them because John was looking still a bit dazed by whatever the guy had tried to do to him.

Carson insisted on checking him over once they were a safe distance away. This was completely unsurprising, expected, and probably a really good idea, but Rodney still found himself shifting from foot to foot, glancing back behind them in case they were being chased.

"Do you realize that we have maybe two other groups in this city that like us and want to work with us at all?" he complained. "The rest mostly either ignore us or want to attack us."

"Maybe you should stop insulting them after battles, Rodney," Carson suggested mildly, busy peering into John's eyes. "Your pupils don't _look_ dilated."

"I don't!" Rodney protested. "Or, not much. Only when they've done something really stupid anyway. Do you reckon Kolya and Smeadon got onto them and talked them into it?"

"I don't know _why_ they tried that, Rodney," John said, "but I really doubt those two still bear that much of a grudge against us. It's been three _years_." He pushed Carson away gently, giving a quick shake of his head. "No, really, I'm fine now. Why do you think those two are involved anyway?"

"Because my alternative theory is that the guys picking kids to come here just picked as many crazy people as possible," Rodney said glumly. "I wish they'd shut those alarms up! We only flew for maybe a minute, max. You'd think they'd be over it by now."

Indeed, the alarms seemed, if anything, to be louder and more shrill. John looked concerned. "Maybe Carson broke something landing?"

"Maybe _I_ broke something?" Carson said, sounding horrified. "You made me fly the thing! I didn't even want to sit in it!"

"Either way, we'd better check it out," John suggested. "We can worry about Oberoth's bunch later -- c'mon, hurry!"

They returned to the dorm to find it in chaos, the alarm almost deafening there. People seemed to be spilling everywhere and Elizabeth, in the centre of it all, was looking frantic. "_There_ you are! I've had people out looking for you. There's been an emergency declared."

"Yeah, we know," John said guiltily. "Because the city moved?"

She stared at him a moment, and then shook her head slowly. "No. They received a message. Wraith ships have been sighted near Earth."

Rodney felt his stomach drop. They had the smidgeons of a plan coming together, sure, but the plan wasn't ready yet. Nothing was ready yet. Jeannie and the others on Earth were still there, not evacuated as he'd wanted them to be. They had weapons, and knew vaguely how they were used, but knew nothing more than that just yet. And they were _here_, galaxies away, nowhere _near_ Earth.

"How long have we got?" John asked urgently.

"They said days." Elizabeth spoke calmly, but her eyes were terrified. "Maybe a week, if that."

"Right." John swung on his heel, and Rodney just knew he was going to go straight back there and plug himself into the chair.

"John!" He grabbed his friend's arm before he could fly. "We can't get back there before that. There's not enough time!"

John hesitated. "You can make it faster, right?"

"Make what faster?" Elizabeth demanded, glancing from one to the other. "What are you planning?"

"The city can fly," John said briefly. "Carson just lifted it a few minutes ago."

"By accident!" Carson protested.

"The point is, it can," John said firmly. "It's got weapons, and it's got drone ships. If we can get them to Earth, it'll help."

"But we can't get them to Earth!" Rodney knew he was shouting, but they weren't listening. "This isn't something you can fix just by... by pressing on the gas a little more! We're not even in the same _galaxy_ as Earth. You can't _go_ that fast!"

No one seemed to hear him, even so. Elizabeth was frowning. "John, you can't fight in this city. There's too many people."

"Right. We evacuate them." John glanced over at Rodney. "You can override the computers, yeah? Get a message announced that everyone in the city needs to come to the gate. We'll send them somewhere else -- maybe one of those worlds they sent the older kids to. Only need us here, there's no point endangering everyone else."

"Would you like me to do that before or after I break the laws of physics?" Rodney demanded. "This isn't going to work. There is no physical way it can possibly work."

John grasped him by the shoulders, and gave him a little shake. "Rodney. Your sister's out there. Do you want to sit here and play cards while everyone on Earth waits for the Wraith to come get them?"

He felt his gut twist at the idea of it, the thought of Jeannie and their parents at the hands of one of those _things_. It wasn't as though any of them would even be any good at _fighting._ "No," he admitted in a mumble, trying to put the picture out of his head.

"Good. Then we do what we can. Get the announcement put out," John said firmly. "Elizabeth can organise the evacuation of everyone who doesn't have to be here, Carson will come with me, and you and Radek can work out some way to make this thing fast enough-"

"But we _can't-_" Rodney started to protest again, and was silenced by the look John gave him.

"Work something out. Do whatever you need to. We don't have time for you to hesitate."

For once, even Carson didn't protest as John hauled him back in the direction they'd come. Ronon followed, presumably to make sure they got there safely, and Rodney found himself left behind with Elizabeth looking at him expectantly.

"Yes, yes, I'll see what I can do," he mumbled, ignoring the inner terror said that you _couldn't _magic solutions up out of empty air, even if you really wanted to. "Let me get the announcement system working first so you can start evacuating."

That was the easy part, even if it resulted in Elizabeth looking harrassed as she sorted out who was to leave and who was to stay. Rodney might never have needed to dial a gate location before, but he'd studied enough, and hacked into enough information files that it took no more than a couple of minutes to activate it so that a long stream of people could be sent through. The adults were the hardest part, understandably confused and resistant to the idea, but Aiden seemed to take charge of that and a group firmly 'escorted' them through to the other side. If it was a coup, it was maybe the quickest in the universe.

That just left Radek and Rodney, looking at each other helplessly, trying to pull a rabbit out of the hat to save Earth. And the problem was that Rodney couldn't think of any metaphorical rabbits to offer and there was no time to sit down and work out highly complex new plans and experiments. There was no time for_ anything. _That was the whole point.

So, they tried to go as fast as they could. It still wouldn't be enough, Rodney knew, couldn't be anywhere near enough because nothing could cover that distance in the time required. But... maybe the Wraith were further away than people thought, maybe they would be late, so maybe if they made every second count it just might be enough.

They tinkered with systems, and they worked. They altered the flow of power so that an ever-increasing amount of energy could be fed to the engines, because more fuel meant more speed. They cut out non-essential areas, leaving only the chair-room and the area they were working in with lights. It still wasn't enough. John was splitting shifts with Carson, taking turns at flying so that between-times they could have a chance to rest and eat something. Elizabeth had evacuated everyone who could safely get out and was running between them, passing messages and forcing them to take a break when it looked as though they were on the verge of passing out. Rodney had consumed so much coffee that he felt he was about to jump out of his skin, and still John came belting down the corridor, leaving Carson in charge of piloting, to ask them what else they could do, what else they were going to do, because while in ship terms they were breaking every speed limit going, in terms of the distance they had to cover they were crawling like a snail and it _wasn't going to be enough._

"We can do nothing!" he snapped desperately, because hadn't they already worked miracles? "If you want to get there in one piece, there is nothing more we can change! You can't _have_ any more power going to the engines -- not without overheating them."

John stared at him, wild-eyed, hair sticking out every which way. "What would you do if you _didn't_ want to get there in one piece?"

The question knocked him sideways for a moment. "Well, I suppose we could turn off the safety -- the monitor which regulates the heat of the engine. That would give us a short sharp blast of speed but-"

"-we could blow up," Radek finished for him flatly.

"Yes, that," Rodney agreed. "And if we use all our fuel in a short sharp burst, afterwards we will be left with the minor disadvantage that, oh, I don't know, we don't have any fuel. Maybe you don't see that as a problem when we're floating through space, but I-"

John either wasn't listening or he wasn't hearing, Rodney wasn't sure which. "Would it be enough to get us to Earth?"

"Maybe?" Rodney glanced at a screen of graphs, monitors and numbers. "Or enough to turn us into a giant ball of flame. It's really hard to tell which."

"It would be suicide," Radek warned. "Or it would be very close. It is called the safety for a reason!"

"Do it," John said, as though he hadn't heard that last.

Rodney stared at him. Radek said something which by now he knew enough to translate as a swearword, even if he couldn't grasp the exact meaning. "You did hear the bit where Radek said it would be suicide? I mean, I know he's not the smartest guy we have here, but I'm going to back him up on this one, and-"

"Set it going, and then evacuate through the gate," John said fiercely. "You guys, Elizabeth, take Carson even. Get somewhere safe. I'll fly this last stretcg alone, but we're not going to quit this without a fight."

"You do realize that the chances of success are-"

"Rodney!"

He didn't bother to point out that there was no way to divert enough power from the engines to activate the gate, or that, if there was to be any chance this was to work at all, they would need to be here, regulating the flow of heat as best they could as John flew. There was little point. Either this succeeded, or it didn't. Rodney bit his lip and set to work, removing the last safety controls before he sat to watch the monitors.

Their speed increased. So did the temperature. They seemed to go into the red with alarming speed. He and Radek worked as best they could, opening vents, dumping the heat out. It seemed to do little good.

"It is over-heating too quickly!" Radek wailed. "You need to turn it back off."

But the speed was still climbing, and maybe, maybe they did just have half a chance. Maybe this would be the miracle everybody talked about afterwards, the one that no sane person would have believed possible. Rodney shook his head. "Just a little longer."

Radek barked a curse at him, and pounded at his keyboard, fingers racing over the keys as he struggled. Both of them trying now, to pull a rabbit out of the hat, to make a ship get to somewhere which there was no possible way it could reach.

"Too _hot!_ Rodney!" Radek snapped frantically. "It will explode!"

A glance at the overall temperature said he was right, and reluctantly Rodney reached to type in a command. "I'll cut back on the power again. It should cool."

It didn't. It kept rising, climbing as he stared frantically at a screen which seemed to be all red, warnings flashing at him from every direction, alarms blaring deafeningly.

"Rodney!"

He knew it was going to explode only a micro-second before it did, knew that there was no way to cut back enough, cool things quickly enough to prevent it. Knew that they were going to die, right there, out on space, engulfed in a ball of flame.

_"Rod-"_

He screamed, because he was being torn apart, because he was _dying_ and it hurt, it hurt more than anything in his life _ever_, and-

And he was lying on the floor shaking and some girl was pulling her fingers out of his head.

It took a moment to realize that he wasn't dead, that the floor was solid and deliciously cool, that the air was fresh and breathable and not filled with smoke. He sat up slowly, feeling his heart still hammering in his chest. John and Carson were close by, and he could see them sitting up with much the same dazed expressions he imagined must be on his _own_ face. Carson was crying, tears running down his face, and John looked as though he were about to be furious.

It all made no sense at all, because a minute ago Rodney had been dying in a horrible explosion and now -- oh. _Oh._

Without getting up, not trusting his legs to hold him right away, he crabbed back towards the others, shuffling backwards. He kept his eyes on the people who were suddenly surrounding them, the people who seemed to have sprung from _nowhere_, because suddenly he knew what they were.

"What's going on?" John demanded, looking confused, and angry because he was confused. He glanced between Carson and Rodney, and it was kinda nice to have someone look at him that protectively, even if Rodney really hoped he didn't look as bad as Carson did right now. Carson looked _awful._

"They're not human," Rodney muttered in a low voice. "The super-secure checks they did to us all before they stuck us out here apparently didn't include making sure any of the races they pulled in were _human._"

"I am very sorry," Oberoth said, and Rodney hated him just for that because he didn't sound at _all _sorry. Not sorry about putting him through his own death back there, and not sorry for the fact his head ached so much it might actually be a mercy just to chop it off. "We have been here to observe you. While it was apparent you held no chance of stopping the Wraith, you could be ignored, but.. this, I am afraid, we cannot allow."

"Hold on, hold on." John made what seemed a brave attempt at getting up for a moment, and then hastily sat back down. Rodney guessed the headache got worse if you tried moving too much. It seemed to get worse if you tried _breathing_ too much. "You don't want to stop the Wraith? You do realize that those guys aren't picky about who they munch on, right?"

Oberoth smiled, a faint superior smile. "I do not believe they will cause a problem for us."

"No, well, they wouldn't, would they?" Rodney snapped. "John, they're _robots._"

John twisted to stare at him. "They're _what_? But they're people! People that used to be smaller people! Robots don't grow up."

"Very, very clever robots," Rodney clarified. "The Ancients built them. They were in uh. The files I wasn't meant to read." He shifted, not liking the way a couple of them were looking at him. It wasn't so much the look you would give a dog that had learnt to do tricks as the look you might give a dangerously clever dog that needs to be taken out back and shot before it can learn anything else.

He decided that perhaps it would be wisest to be quiet for a while.

"You've done very well," Oberoth said, but his tone didn't say that at all. His tone said that they'd done _too_ well. "As I said, we have been observing you. We did not expect you to make so much progress in your plans to save your planet."

"Yeah, well, we're all just child prodigies like that," John retorted. "Although I _would_ like to know how you pulled us back here. Last thing I remember I was getting ready to fight the Wraith. Admittedly, that could have gone better than it was, but-"

"It was a hallucination, John." Rodney's resolution to stay quiet lasted only as long as the next piece of information crying out to be supplied.

"Yeah?" John glanced at him curiously. "Shame. I had you all safely evacuated."

Rodney shook his head. "We didn't get that far. I- we couldn't fly fast enough."

As one, their gazes moved to Carson, still sitting quiet and pale.

"Pandemic." Carson's voice came as a croak, barely above a whisper. "The vaccine escaped.. and spread."

"All very clever," Oberoth agreed with a sharp nod. "Unfortunately, even were any of those plans workable I am afraid we could not let you go ahead with them. It suits our purposes much more at this time if the Wraith succeed in their mission."

"So, you want everyone to _die?_" John demanded. He shifted, moving just a little, just enough to put himself in front of Carson and Rodney. Stupid plan, Rodney decided, really stupid plan because it wasn't as though it would do any good against people who only had to put their fingers in your head to incapacitate you. Especially not when they all had headaches too big to run away, even if John did try something stupid to buy them time.

Which John _would_ do, and Rodney didn't have a better plan. Sometimes things really just sucked like that.

"In a word, yes," Oberoth agreed. "It would suit us very well if the Wraith served to bring your kind's destruction. We have waited eight years to ensure you were left with no way to avert it."

"And then what?" It wasn't hard to see John getting ready, not if you knew what to look for, and Rodney had been behind him in the battle room for the last three years. Muscles bunched, tensing, ready to surge up. Rodney glanced sideways at Carson, wondering if he saw it too.

Carson didn't seem to be seeing anything, lost in a private cloud of his own misery.

"And then we will deal with the Wraith in our own time," Oberoth said calmly. "We see no current threat from the Wraith. You three, on the other hand, are an inconvenience, and I believe we have learned all we can from you."

He reached towards John, and John, as though reacting to an expected action, was up, on, his feet, and hitting out faster than Rodney would have believed possible. Even though Rodney had been expecting it, his reflexes were slower than John's and it took a moment before he could make it up and reach to try and drag Carson up. He had a wild idea that maybe if they ran, if they ran _really fast,_ that maybe they could get away and fetch help and maybe, somehow, maybe it would be _all right._

The explosion took him by surprise.

It came, not from behind them, where John was still struggling, but in front of them. For a moment, Rodney's sense were all light and heat and noise, and he had a single terrifyingly clear second to think that no, _this_ was the hallucination, his mind had conjured something up in that last moment as the city exploded, but the explosion was real, the fire was real, and no one was ever going to find what was left of them this far out in space-

"Rodney. Rodney, lad, you can let go of me now. I'm getting a wee bit crushed."

It was wonderful to open your eyes and realize that, contrary to all expectations, you _still_ weren't dead. It was just a little embarrassing, however, for Rodney to do so and realize that he was clinging to Carson for dear life. He released him hastily, trying to blink away the echo of the explosion from the inside of his eyelids.

"Someone want to explain what just happened?" That was John, and he sounded just as baffled as Rodney felt. "One minute I was fighting and then... I wasn't. If this means some other guy's stuck his hand in my head again, I'm gonna be really pissed off about it."

"You got rescued." It was that voice that made Rodney decide that maybe he was hallucinating, because what would Sam being doing here? He reached to pat at his head cautiously, wondering if he'd actually be able to feel ghostly fingers going into it.

"Did you bang your head, Rodney?" Carson glanced at him anxiously, still looking pale and ill himself.

"No. No, it's just-" He waved towards Sam as she came towards them -- oh, and there were the others behind her too, Elizabeth, Teyla, Ronon, Radek, half Sam's group... Well, at least this was a better hallucination than the last one, so far. "We didn't tell anyone where we were going. So this has to be in my head again."

"That was my thought," John agreed, looking more than a little rumpled as he joined them. He gave Rodney a suspicious look. "Though that means _you're_ a figment of my imagination too."

Rodney bridled indignantly. "I am _not_ a figment of your imagination. I'm the _real_one!"

"Boys, boys," Elizabeth interrupted, and Rodney was a little grateful because John looked ready to poke him in the stomach just to prove a point. Getting prodded by a not-real John would probably still hurt. "Neither of you is a hallucination. We came after we got your call for help."

"But we didn't call for help," Rodney said, confused. He would remember that, wouldn't he? Unless they'd taken it out of his head.

Carson held up his radio transmitter, managing to summon up a smile from somewhere. "Turned it on," he admitted. "Thought someone would be listening."

"And as you're not the only one who reads files we're not meant to," Sam echoed his own words back at him. "When you said robots, I figured you'd be talking replicators, and you might need a little help."

"So, I was tracking you on the GPS in the receiver, and we came to find you," Radek said cheerfully, coming to take Rodney's arm. Apparently they all looked like they were about to fall down, because Elizabeth was helping Carson, and even John had Ronon hovering protectively next to him. Not that Rodney minded too much. He'd died in a fire, after all, it figured that he deserved _some_ cosseting, even if it wasn't exactly real.

"And uh, where did the robots go exactly?" John enquired, twisting back to peer over his shoulder as though expecting them to loom out of nowhere. Understandable really, because was there _anything_ in the galaxy creepier than robots who put their fingers in your head?

"They destroyed them," Rodney said automatically, "with, uh.." He stopped, brain for once unable to function enough through the headache to easily grasp the answer he wanted.

Sam gave him a scornful look, that might have been at least half-teasing. "We blew up one of the naquadah generators I've been working on," she informed him coolly. "Didn't you know EMP was the best way to destroy replicators?"

***

"-and I thought we _talked_ about you people not going off to play with new experiments without telling me first." It took about five minutes once they were back to get them sat down, with hot chocolate for the shock. It took about seven minutes for Elizabeth to start a blisteringly furious lecture about the stupidity of what they'd attempted in the first place. Rodney thought that maybe she was working on the theory that, like puppies, if she left it for too long they would forget what they were being yelled at for.

Actually, where John was concerned, it probably wasn't a bad theory.

"Strictly speaking, it wasn't the experiment that caused the problem," he pointed out now, at a point where even _Rodney_ knew it was better to shut up and wait until she was done.

"Because you were lucky," Elizabeth said sharply. "You said we were all up in the air at one point? How did you know the life support systems were prepared to cope with that? How did you know that lifting up at all wouldn't cause damage that stopped us landing again? These things should at least involve a modicum of _planning._ You can't just keep _trying_ things and hope that they work out for the best."

"Usually they do," John mumbled stubbornly into his mug.

"One day they won't," Elizabeth retorted, and Rodney thought of a city that flew too fast, and an engine that grew too hot, and the fireball that resulted when you trusted to hope and a prayer.

"They did do us one favor," he found himself saying out loud, and his brain leaped on that idea, pulling it about.

"The robots?" John said. "How do you figure? Rodney?"

"Rodney, are you all right?" Elizabeth started to ask, but Rodney was already snapping his fingers, on his feet, hot chocolate forgotten.

"No, that's it -- listen, we can _use_ this," he blurted. "Because now we know what doesn't work, and we don't have to die to figure it out. It's -- it's the _test run_. I know that we can't just fly to Earth as fast as we can -- I know that's not going to work, because it _happened_, and we tried, and I died in a fireball." He shot a glare at John. "Thanks to _your_ stupid idea, by the way. I knew I shouldn't have listened to you."

"Hey, if you had it in _your_ hallucination, that makes it _your_ stupid idea," John retorted.

"Clearly my brain made it up, knowing it was just the kind of idiotic thing you'd suggest," Rodney said firmly. "But the point is, we can't make it just by flying. There's no way to go fast enough, not and ever reach Earth. The engine over-heats."

"So, where does that leave us?" Elizabeth asked, perplexed, glancing between the three of them.

John shrugged. "Don't look at me. In my version, Rodney worked it out. We made it to Earth just fine."

"_Worked it out_? That's not exactly a technical description there," Rodney complained.

"Well, you and Radek did something and got very excited about it. You don't think I actually listen to all that techno-babble you throw at us when you're sticking stuff together, do you?" John said. "Because I've pretty much been smiling and nodding for the last eight years, just so you know."

Rodney scowled, but Elizabeth cut him off before he could reply. "So, in your version you were successful?"

"Well." John looked uncomfortable. "Not.. exactly."

"Not exactly, how?" She might be annoyingly persistent in her attempts to stop them from playing with new equipment, but when it came to getting information, Elizabeth was probably the best at it. "This could be important, John."

John shifted, and Rodney could almost see him squirming at the question. "We gave a good account of ourselves," he said finally, dredging the words up with reluctance. "But there were a lot of them."

"How many?" Elizabeth asked, more gently, easing off on him just a little.

"Too many just to fight," John said flatly. "We did our best... we did our best, and then there were alarms going off, and you'd hit your head on something and Carson was shouting that it was a bad injury, and Rodney and Radek were yelling that the shields were failing, and there were still ships left coming.." He fell silent a moment, reliving a nightmare situation that had existed only within his head, and Rodney could almost see it -- the alarms, and Elizabeth hurt, and needing-to-get-John-out-now.

Wasn't that always how it ended up when you were with John?

"What did you do?" Elizabeth encouraged, when it was clear John wasn't intending to go on.

John looked away, and took a quick, sharp breath. "I evacuated you all," he said, as though saying it as fast as possible would take the meaning out of the words, "so you would be safe. And then I took the city, and flew it at the largest ship there was left."

"Oh." Elizabeth let her breath out slowly, and stared at him, not seeming to know how to react to that. "That was... oh."

John looked taken aback when she hugged him suddenly, fiercely, as though he wasn't quite sure what he ought to do about it. Rodney noted silently that no one had hugged _him_. And _he'd _died in a fireball, not that anybody bothered to care.

Carson had sat quietly throughout the retellings, looking as though he hoped that, if he kept silent for long enough, no one would ask. no one would want to know, as long as he avoided their attention for long enough, and drank his hot chocolate.

Had it just been John and Rodney, Rodney thought that it would probably have worked. Not because they didn't notice when Carson was all silent and miserable like that, but just because it was easier to overlook it and try to drag Carson out of it by pulling him out to do stuff than it was to get him to talk about it. They weren't so good at the talking, really, and besides, if Carson wanted it left, wasn't that the best way to go?

Elizabeth didn't work like that though. Elizabeth let John go, took one look at Carson's face, and then hugged Carson too, all pretence of scolding any of them gone forever. She looked as though she were about to cry herself, sinking down between them as she tried to gather them all at once into an embrace, as though that could somehow _fix_ things.

"Don't cry," John said awkwardly, patting her leg. "It wasn't _real_, Elizabeth. We're fine."

Were they? Rodney wasn't at all sure he was, but maybe it was worth pretending if it stopped Elizabeth from being upset. Angry just meant yelling back, but upset none of them really knew how to handle. Except Carson, of course, and Carson.. wasn't really looking as though he were up to handling anything.

"I just hate having to ask you all about this, when I can see it hurting you," Elizabeth admitted, blinking hard for a moment. "I'm sorry. I'm.. I'm _really_ sorry, Carson. But.. we need to know."

For a moment, it seemed Carson wasn't going to answer, just stare into his mug as though he hadn't heard her. When he spoke it was quietly, painfully, voice low. "We got to Earth but.. there was an accident. Something happened to John -- a bad take-off, he fell.. he couldn't fly."

"So, you flew," John guessed, understanding.

"Aye," Carson agreed, "and I could do the shields. I was good at shields. But not fighting. I was _willing_ to fight, but.."

"You don't know how," Elizabeth finished, as though that were obvious. "We never practised with you fighting anyway."

"We knew that if it was me fighting, we were going to lose," Carson said softly. "And there was no one else to fly. But there was the vaccine." He lifted his eyes slowly, pleading for forgiveness for an event that hadn't happened. "We tested it that time. We thought we'd fixed it!"

There was something in his voice that hurt the soul. Rodney would rather have had to fly a dozen ships twice the distance to Earth than hear that pained note.

"And you hadn't?" Elizabeth was biting her lip, a hand resting on Carson's back as she encouraged him.

He shook his head slowly. "Oh, it was fine at first. The Wraith came, but it confused the wee buggers when they couldn't suck life out of people, see? Left them vulnerable. They didn't know how to fight without that, so we were fighting back. Winning even." He stared hard at a point in space, maybe a dust mote. "Then people started to die."

"Carson," Elizabeth said softly. "Carson, it wasn't real."

"No," Carson said sharply. "No, you don't understand. People started to _die_. Not.. not just the ones we'd treated -- no one can order a world-wide vaccination program that fast. So, the people I gave it to, they made it a virus of its own.. and it spread, and it_ kept on_ spreading." His voice broke, and Rodney thought no, no he'd fly_ five _times the distance to Earth if he never had to face Carson like that again. "It was a galaxy-wide pandemic. We couldn't stop it."

"Shush," Elizabeth soothed. "Shush. It didn't happen. It won't happen." And she was hugging Carson, and Carson was _crying_, hard painful sobs, and John was reaching over to pat at him awkwardly too, and even _Rodney_ was doing the same because if enough hugs, enough pats, might make Carson stop sounding like that, make Carson stop _feelin_g like that, it would be worth it.

So they weren't much good at comfort, him and John. It didn't mean they didn't _mean _it.

He wasn't sure they helped. It was possible that in the end Carson mainly stopped because, if he didn't, the sheer amount of people around him might have actually suffocated him. They ended up in the sort of undignified crush that, usually, Rodney wouldn't have_ dreamed_ of being in the middle of, all three of them wrapped around Carson and trying to make him feel better. The relief when Carson seemed to calm down was palpable, but no one made a move to pull away just at first. Rodney thought that maybe they were all just too tired to untangle themselves. It was exhausting, this emotional stuff. Also, somebody was sitting on his foot.

"So," Elizabeth said eventually, "I take it we don't try fixing things that way then."

Carson shook his head, and Rodney was just glad he didn't start crying again. He was fairly certain that Elizabeth had been snuffling too, somewhere in there, and even John was looking a little red-eyed, and he.. well, he'd been fine of course, but someone had to make sure the others were okay.

This emotional stuff really sucked.

"And we can't fly straight there," Elizabeth said slowly, as though working things out, "and when we get there, we can't just try shooting them down."

"No," John agreed. He looked up, his expression thoughtful, and Rodney was amazed by how.. how _okay_ he looked. How come John got to bounce back that quick? "So. New plan?"

"New plan?" Rodney echoed doubtfully, trying to think. He twitched his leg, feeling the teasing prickle of pins and needles. Someone was _sitting_ on his _foot._

"Well, we know the old one doesn't work now, don't we?" John said, as though that was no problem to them at all. He sat up, somehow managing to slide free without problems. "But.. we still have the equipment. _That_ works well enough. So, you work out how to get us there and then.. then we'll figure out what to do when we get there."

And Rodney wondered, yet again, just how it was that John made it sound that easy.

* * *

David had, at least, been half-right. They did need money and, if somehow this wasn't true, if he'd taken a gamble on what the cute little kid told him and lost, he dreaded to think what he was going to tell his father about that. There was no way that being eighteen was going to excuse the fact that a large amount of money, which had been in his father's account now.. wasn't. Now was funding the transport bills of people all over the _globe_, getting them plane tickets and transport arrangements to move them to where they needed to be. It was a _lot _of money. Enough to make his stomach twist at the idea of things going wrong. He had to be crazy. This had to be some huge, insane hoax.

It said a lot that this being a huge hoax was probably the _best_ way it could end.

They had managed to put it all smoothly into action in any case. It scared him a little how easy being deceptive _was _when it came down to it. Jeannie had the names of the people who needed to be contacted and their kids, even the addresses -- the kid seemed to have a _lot _of information she really shouldn't have. All it took was typing up formal letters on official-looking paper, informing families that they needed to come immediately to discuss the welfare of their kid. Add a vague mention of some tests, request that any siblings be brought along, include the tickets in the envelope -- _very _safely couriered and signed for -- and they were done.

Easy as pie, if pie were to cost about eighty thousand dollars.

He'd toyed with the idea to explaining to his own father, and discarded it. That approach, he suspected, would have got him a lecture on naivety and funds would be very quickly cut off. Disobeying, sneaking around behind his father's back, wasn't something David was used to doing, but these were special circumstances.

He'd taken the coward's way in the end, and just sent his father another letter. The courier had arrived early, and he'd held his breath as his father read the thing, expecting that at any moment he'd be caught. There had to be certain phrasings, word-patterns -- something that would make his father look up and ask if he wrote it. Instead, he'd just growled something about John, and tossed the thing down. It seemed it was more convincing that he'd believed.

That, or his father trusted him too much to see the clues, because he wouldn't suspect enough to look for them. That thought lay uneasily on David's mind. Eighty thousand dollars was a whole lot of money to be wrong about.

He wanted to call it off the whole short flight there. Confess all, admit he'd done something really, really stupid, take whatever was coming to him. Better than completing the whole charade. But he couldn't seem to get the words out, and when the plane landed, a man was waiting to escort them to the coach. A _man_ he'd hired, a coach _he'd_ arranged, and he'd thought he was being really, really clever with the whole deception then. He wasn't quite so sure now.

The coach was full of people already, and David wasn't sure whether to be relieved or dismayed. Most, if not all, of the families he'd written to had to have come. He followed his father down to the first free seats, past a man who was muttering about how he was going to write to his congressman about the substandard transportation provided, past a family that _had_ to be the Becketts -- only one family had needed so many tickets, and from _Scotland_ of all places -- and sat down heavily. From here to the base -- Jeannie was certain she had worked out which one it must be, from what her brother had said in his emails. And from there, maybe, to looking like the biggest fool of the century.

A few seats ahead, a young blonde girl twisted in her seat, ignoring her parents' admonishing to stay_ still_. She looked back, until she located who she was looking for, and then Jeannie grinned at David, a full-force "look what we did!" grin.

David resisted the urge to groan.


	11. Endgame Pt 1

"Atlantis, come in." The words were barked and angry, because there were a million and one things to do and Jack really had no time left to spare on people pulling stupid shit right now and not bothering to report in. "We haven't received your last due report, and we're getting reports from the Alpha Site that you have people being evacuated to there. Just what the hell is going on?"

A moment, and there was no reply. Jack tapped his fingers against the desk, ignoring the creeping feeling of unease. Likely, some minor incident -- another kid causing explosions, or mucking with Ancient artefacts and they needed to get everyone out so fast that they didn't have time to take care of minor details. It wasn't as if such disasters could be described as rare on Atlantis.

But Woolsey and his grating insistence on having things done properly always saw to the minor details. He was the sort of man to insist that every t was crossed, and every i was dotted. Even if it was only to make everybody else look bad, the fact remained that it was a habit he was unlikely to break.

Still, no reply.

"Atlantis, come _in,_" he said again, sharply. "Woolsey, can you quit flailing around about whatever they've managed to do this time and get your ass over here to report?"

No response. Jack sat back to consider his next move. If people had been evacuated to the Alpha Site, they would likely be at the Alpha Site, safe, and for some reason not sending a report back to say why they'd had to move this time. On the other hand, there was always the chance that something actually_ serious_ had got Woolsey in too much of a flap to call it in. In which case, investigating would be needed, but sending a team in would be stupid, unless they knew what they were going into.

He sighed. An incoming alien invasion to deal with, and he had to spend time checking on what would, likely, turn out to be yet another case of adolescent high spirits? He stood up, quickly making a decision. Better to delegate it, and, in the very unlikely event that it was serious, deal with it then.

"Walter, find out why Atlantis isn't responding, will you? And tell them that if they're wasting my time screwing around and not answering for anything _less_ than the actual Apocalypse, I won't be happy."

* * *

"All right. Did you get everyone off safely?" The announcement to get everyone to the gate room had worked like a charm. Rodney had found somewhere to dial that seemed safe enough to dump most of the city's population through the gate, and John had left Elizabeth to deal with the million and one minor details that seemed to be involved in ensuring they all got through safely without anyone getting trampled to death in the crush. Elizabeth was good at things like that.

She nodded now, looking a little tense. "Everyone here now is staying."

"You didn't have any trouble with the adults?" He'd worried about that. Technically, of course, it was a coup, and they'd outnumbered them by more than enough anyway. Still, if they'd decided to put up a real fight back, it would have made it difficult. "Did old Woolsey throw a fit?"

Elizabeth hesitated. "Oddly enough, no," she said slowly. "He reacted really.. strangely. Almost like he was grateful for it."

It was strange, and John frowned, thinking about it. "Was it shock maybe?"

"No." Elizabeth shook her head. "At least, I don't think so -- John, he had a bag _packed,_ ready to go when we turned up. I told him he had to evacuate, and he just _looked_ at me. As though he was considering arguing, and then decided not to bother."

"Do you think they expected it maybe?" That was the problem with all the lies those in charge had managed to spin around them. It was difficult to decide when they were being set up, and what for.

"I don't think so." Elizabeth bit her lip. "I think he just really wanted to go." Her expression was odd for a moment, a little sad, almost guilty. "Poor old Woolsey."

John shrugged, not seeing anything to be sad about. "Poor nothing. He's one of the ones who landed us here," he reminded her. "Just as long as he's off."

"He's left. All the adults are gone," Elizabeth confirmed. "And... I don't know. Sometimes I got the feeling he didn't want to do what he had to. Especially when Rodney was bugging their meetings."

"Maybe." It was a complication John didn't need to think of right now. He was quite happy _staying_ angry at Woolsey, thank you, without someone inserting sympathy into the whole deal. Just not angry _enough_ to keep him on here when there was a chance this might go horribly wrong.

He wanted as few people as possible on here if that happened. He eyed Elizabeth now. "You know, if you'd wanted to, you could have gone with them," he offered. "Made sure they all got through all right."

"If you think the rest of us are going off and leaving you here to try crashing into a Wraith ship, think again." That idea was turned down flatly. "Besides, what exactly are you planning to say to Earth when you get there?"

"Well, I was just-" He hadn't really thought that far ahead when it came down to it. Just planned on smiling, and telling them what was going to happen, and that they hadn't really got a choice in the matter, because who was going to argue with the guy flying a city? "Was just going to let them know what was happening, really."

"Yeah," Elizabeth looked less than convinced. "And then they'll shoot you down."

"They would not!"

She smiled slightly, and patted his arm. "Believe me, they would. Let me handle talking to Earth. You... tend to forget how to talk to official people."

John didn't bother to argue with that. It wasn't that he _forgot_ the polite, ultra-careful way you had to speak to those who were in charge and thought they deserved respect. It was just that doing so tended to get in the way of what he actually had to _say. _

He glanced over instead to where Rodney, Radek, and Sam sat, the three of them intent on what he assumed were last minute checks of some type.

"You guys ready to go once we're in the air?"

"You mean, ready to perform a highly experimental procedure that has never been used before and could potentially kill us all within the next five seconds?" Rodney asked, looking up. "Because, if so... yes, sure."

John's smile didn't even waver. That was probably a sign he'd been hanging around Rodney for too long. "Look, you explained this to me. It's just like taking the whole city through a really big gate, yeah? Nothing to worry about."

"No, no, _no_. I said the _technology_ was similar," Rodney corrected. "You're opening a wormhole. But you've not got the stability of the gate, you're opening wormholes as you go, not relying on established doorways."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," John said soothingly, not doubting it for a moment as he turned to head back to the chair-room. "Everyone needs to get somewhere stable while I get us up into the air."

Behind him, he heard Rodney shout, "Watch out for meteorites!" and couldn't quite help the grin.

Hopefully they would all have the sense to hang on to something when they took off. John had a vague idea that there should be seatbelts or something -- if aeroplanes had them, then city-sized spaceships certainly ought to -- but it seemed that the Ancients hadn't thought of those when they built the place. Or if they _had_, no one had found them yet, which just about came to the same thing.

Teyla and Ronon tagged on behind him as he made his way back through the corridors. He'd told _them_ they could evacuate if they wanted too, but it seemed that once you'd been jumped on in a corridor, people got really _edgy_ about your safety. Never mind that the place was practically empty now, and it had been _once_ in eight years that he'd gotten into trouble -- well, twice, if you counted the time he rescued Rodney, and probably a few dozen times more than that if you counted the times he'd managed to pick up artefacts he really should have left where they were.

They stayed back when they reached the chair-room though, Ronon looking at the chair with a certain amount of suspicion, as though it might suddenly become both sentient and hostile. John could see how, maybe, a chair that tapped into your brain might seem a little creepy to some people -- like Carson -- but it was hard to give that view more than a moment's thought when he remembered how it was to feel the city around him, to _be_ the city, huge and complicated and aching to be brought back to life. It was just too.. too _big_ a feeling to give any opposing view a chance.

He sat down slowly, leaning back into the chair, and it fitted him as though it had been made for him, cushions seeming to shift just to where he wanted them. In fact, there was likely no "seeming" about it -- Ancient technology used for building ships the size of cities, gates that could take you between galaxies, and really_ really_ comfortable chairs. He was vaguely conscious again, of the room lighting up around him, just as he was half-concious of Ronon startling into alertness, ready to fight some invisible enemy, but most of his mind was already elsewhere. Most of his mind was reaching for the city, slowly submerging himself in it, focusing until he could feel it, not just as one huge part, but as a million tiny detailed parts, all of them alert and ready to move at his command. He could do anything, from moving the whole city, to flipping on one light in a room somewhere, and feeling the potential of that control took more focus than, until now, he thought he even had.

Just like the battleroom really. Be aware of all the people you led, those who fought and those who didn't. Except now, the things he had to be aware of were actually a part of him, and more numerous than could ever fit in any battleroom.

"Is this meant to happen?" the part of him that was still in a chair heard Ronon hiss. "Is he all right? Shouldn't we be in the air by now?"

"It takes time. We must wait," Teyla soothed in response, but John was already reacting because that made sense. He was there to fly, so why shouldn't he be flying already?

The city had been resting for a long, long time on that planet, waiting for someone to come and guide it into the air again. Given that, and John's excitement, it perhaps wasn't surprising that their launch into the air resembled an eager puppy's bound, the urge to get away and delight in movement leaving little room for finesse and grace. People and things crashed to the ground at the sudden jolt, but while John had never flown a _city _before, he had at least flown the tiny ships the adults trained them in, or more accurately John had been training them in after the first few weeks. It took only a moment to get that urge to hop and leap about the sky under control, and turn to a steadier path.

For a few moments, that was _all_ he could do. It took his full concentration just to hold the city steady, guide it carefully up and out into the galaxy -- so _big,_ he suddenly realized, the city had seemed huge but in space in was only the tinest of dots -- and hold it on a straight path there. Once he was used to that, enough to manage to do it and breathe at the same time, it was as though the other senses came fading back in. Slowly, John became aware again of Ronon cursing as he scrambled back up, of plans scattered every which way, of Rodney starting his usual litany of complaints and then glancing out towards the window and stopping, eyes wide, as he registered that this, this was _space._

It didn't really matter that, strictly speaking, they'd been out in space for the last eight years. It hadn't felt like this.

Just to show off, John executed a wide turn, turning them smoothly to look back on the planet for a last look. He paused there, giving everyone a chance to look, hearing the in-drawn breaths, and then swung around again, back towards Earth.

Back towards where Earth _should_ be, if it weren't an unimaginable distance away.

"Rodney!" It took immense focus to call that, to shift from controlling the part of him which was an entire city-ship to controlling the tiny part of him that operated muscles -- throat, mouth, _voice!_ "Rodney, are we ready to go?"

Of course, Rodney couldn't hear, and it was Teyla who jumped up and went to get him, dragging him back to the chair-room so that John could ask again.

"Are we ready for your... go-faster thing?" There was a technical name for it, but John's memory couldn't find it, and he'd never been a big one for official names anyway.

Rodney puffed himself up, and John could _feel_ him get ready to throw himself into a lecture. "Strictly speaking, yes, as ready as we'll ever be but I did make you aware that there are a lot of risks with this. I mean, we don't even know the effects friction is going to have on something this big going at this speed and-"

"Not the time, Rodney!" It took enough effort to just participate in the conversation at all without this.

"Oh." Rodney visibly deflated. "Then yes. More or less."

"Right. Want to get it started?" John suggested, as nicely as he could, and watched as Rodney turned to hurry back towards the door. He was almost there when John remembered something, important enough to tear him away again from the joy of flying, of feeling for perhaps for the first time in his life the joy of actually having enough room to move in.

"Good luck!" he called gently, just loud enough to reach Rodney.

Rodney turned, startled for a minute, hand resting on the door. "Hm? Oh. Right well. Thanks," he managed, but John could, not just see the faint flush, but feel the warmth of his hand against the door. That was weird, but, he decided quickly, a good weird.

He smiled to himself contentedly as the door closed behind Rodney, letting his attention return to the flight, leaning back in the chair. Everything was going to be fine.  


* * *

It would have been nice to have another few months to properly test everything -- it would have been nice to have had a few _years_ for that in fact. But time was something they didn't have, so Rodney had to rely on the fact that he'd checked and rechecked the theory and equations, _Radek_ had checked and rechecked them, _Sam_ had done the same. It was as perfect and error-free as three extremely bright fifteen year olds could make it.

Even when one of the fifteen year olds was him, that didn't feel particularly comforting.

He knew he wasn't the only one holding his breath as they started the process. You could explain to the others the risks and dangers, but they would just nod and smile and expect you to pull out some magic way to make them go away. Sam and Radek at least knew the risks as well as he did, knew how much of making this work might depend on luck.

At least he didn't have to wonder what it was like to die in a fire now. Actually, that wasn't all that comforting either.

"We are ready, Rodney," Radek said, looking up, and he nodded, and typed in the last couple of commands. It was an effort to do that _without_closing his eyes and preparing to die straight after.

"Temperature is rising," Sam noted matter-of-factly, and Rodney grimaced. The city should be capable of this. From what they'd been able to gather from the oldest files, it had even done it _before. _But that didn't mean it could still do it now, thousands of years later. It didn't mean they'd got it _right._

"Power consumption increasing," Radek added, frowning at his own monitor.

They'd expected this. They'd known it would happen.. but it took all Rodney had, watching and digging his nails into the palms of his hands, not to call it off. They could cancel out now, and still be safe. They could..

"Still rising."

Seconds seemed to stretch to an eternity. Rodney forgot to breathe, eyes fixed on the graphs that would say if they were to live or die. Rising, rising..

"And we're stable." She said it as matter-of-factly as she had everything else, it was only the smile spreading across Sam's face that gave it away. "We're in hyperdrive."

"I did it!" Rodney couldn't quite help the whoop of relief and delight, because hey, he was_ alive_, and he was _fifteen_ and they were travelling faster than light here. "I knew I was brilliant but -"

Radek cleared his throat significantly. Sam raised her eyebrows. Rodney suddenly became aware that both of them were staring at him quite hard.

"I uh.. I mean, well done, guys?" he suggested more meekly. "_We _did it?"

"Better," Sam agreed, and Radek just grinned, already turning back to his monitor. Even in hyperdrive, there was a long way to go.

* * *

"_Two _busloads full of people?" Jack O'Neill demanded. Already, this was not turning out to be a good day.

"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Elliott confirmed again.

"Well, what do they want? It's not like we're here to give visitor tours. Didn't the lack of a gift shop give it away?" he asked irritably. "That, or the people patrolling a massive perimeter to specifically _stop_ them from coming here. Send them away. They're clearly lost. Just tell them their GPS is faulty or something."

"They seem to think they ought to be here, sir," Elliott said apologetically. "One of them keeps threatening to write to his congressman if we don't get things sorted. The rest don't seem too happy either. Apparently they're here to talk about their children." He looked uncomfortable, aware he wasn't bringing the best of news. "I don't think they're lost-"

"Do I look like I'm here to run a parents' meeting, Lieutenant?" O'Neill cut him off sharply.

"No, sir," Elliott agreed. "But, uh. They have letters saying they're meant to be here."

"Letters from who?" If some bright spark had decided it would be a good idea to bring the off-world kids' parents here for some reason, heads were going to roll.

Elliot looked, if anything, more uncomfortable. "According to the signature.. from you, sir."

"Jack, the computers have gone down." That voice came from behind him, and held a distinctly worried note.

"Just hold on a minute, Lieutenant," O'Neill said, holding up a hand before he could say more. He turned to face a concerned looking Daniel Jackson. "What do you mean they've gone down?"

"I mean, they've gone down," Jackson said flatly. "Every machine in the building, from what I can ascertain. They start up, they load, and then the screen goes dark and they don't go any further." He narrowed his eyes, as though anticipating O'Neill's next response. "And yes, we have tried turning them off and on again."

O'Neill frowned, glancing towards the computer sitting idle, and he reached to turn it on. It booted quickly, through the first loading screen to the login screen. "There, you see? No prob- oh." The login screen was up only a second before the screen turned to black. Experimentally, he wiggled the mouse. There was no response. "Stupid machine."

"Yes, well. They're _all_ doing that," Jackson said patiently. "It's not an issue with the individual machines, because if you disconnect one from the network and reboot it, it works. You just can't use it to actually do anything we need to do because you won't get the option to log in."

"Huh." O'Neill contemplated that for a moment. "Virus?"

"If one got in _here,_ I think we have a bit of a problem, don't you?" Jackson gestured to the PC monitor. It remained stubbornly blank. "It's a secure military base, Jack. Not somewhere people pick up viruses from visiting porn sites!"

"You'd be surprised," O'Neill commented dryly. "Can it be fixed?" He eyed the recalcitrant computer for a moment, then reached to bang the base hard with the palm of his hand.

"Not like that, usually, no." The hard disc made a juddering noise that made Jackson eye the machine for a moment, but otherwise there seemed to be no change. "We can get a rollback performed to the last good copy but.."

"But?"

"But, it takes time to copy that over and in the meantime we have no computers..."

"So nothing to monitor with, and Wraith due to arrive any week now?" O'Neill completed, understanding now. "Great. Just what we needed."

"More or less," Jackson admitted. "We're going to need to work out which is the last clean copy first. That means going back, restoring, testing the machines, seeing if they're fixed.. or just digging through code and logs until we find out what shouldn't be there and when it turned up. We're probably going to be down for at least twenty-four hours."

"I thought we had an emergency plan for situations like these, to get them back up and running quickly?" O'Neill complained.

"That _is_ on the emergency plan. You're lucky it's not weeks."

"Fine." O'Neill said, and then groaned, something coming to mind. "And that means we've got no way to find out what's going on in Atlantis until they're back up."

"What's happening with Atlantis?" Jackson queried. "Something wrong?"

"They stopped sending reports this morning. Alpha Site sent us a message saying they'd gotten a load of evacuees all of a sudden, and not much more than that." O'Neill stopped himself abruptly, and swivelled to where Lieutenent Elliott was standing, mostly forgotten. "Wait. You said you had two buses full of angry _parents?_"

"I believe so, yes sir," Elliot agreed quickly. "You think it's connected?"

"Let's just say I'm not going to make my surprised face if they are. Ha. And _I_ thought they'd just managed to blow themselves up again." O'Neill turned abruptly towards the door. "Right. We'll see about this."

They were barely out of the door before someone came running up, breathless and frantic. "Sir! There's a contact coming through on the radio. They say they're calling from Atlantis."

"But that needs to go through the computers," Jackson protested, and O'Neill grimaced.

"See this? This is my not-surprised face. Come on."

* * *

_"Stargate Command, this is Atlantis..." _The voice was female, and worried. Not the sort of worry that came with thinking someone was two inches from death, the sort of worry that came from a kid who knew they were doing something that was so going to get them grounded for the rest of their lives.

If O'Neill had anything to do with it, she might well be right. He pressed a button -- never mind that it maybe shouldn't work with the computers down. Clearly, it was working enough for them to get contact through _this_ way, so it should work enough to get the message back. "Atlantis, this is General Jack O'Neill. Who am I speaking to, and, more to the point, why isn't it Richard Woolsey?"

There was a silence for a moment. O'Neill could imagine the kid gathering the guts up to respond. "This is Elizabeth Weir, General," she said finally, radio not quite enough to hide the anxious note. "Mr Woolsey is uh.. he's not here right now."

"Elizabeth!" It was a name that brought to mind a dark-haired young girl, perhaps a little bit too sensible for her own good -- or so they had thought. Ha, and they'd argued that she was the _responsible _one. "All grown up and taking over planets already, doesn't time fly by? At least I _assume_ you're the reason that we're getting reports that most of the city has evacuated and why our entire computer system has gone down?"

"Uh.." She sounded decidedly uncertain now. "Yes."

"Might I ask why? I'd tell you that no one is going to be mad if you tell the truth, but since I'm facing a room of blank monitors that give me no way of knowing if I'm about to have Wraith breathing down my neck, that would be what we call a _lie._"

"We had to evacuate people for their safety.." Elizabeth started slowly.

"Because?" O'Neill prompted. "And why did you decide to play games with our computers? For that matter, how did you?"

"That was Rodney," Elizabeth said, apparently without thinking.

In the background, O'Neill was certain he heard a yelp of, "Sure, blame _me_!"

"We had to evacuate people because we were going to travel so fast it might be dangerous," Elizabeth carried on. "And uh. We disabled the monitors so that you couldn't think we were aliens and accidentally shoot us down. We, ah, we're above Earth now, General."

Above Earth? If they'd evacuated people only that morning that was impossible, but that was something to argue with later. For now, O'Neill kept up the crisp, angry calmness. "Well, that has to be some flying worth seeing. Do you think we might have a monitor back so we can actually see you?"

He waited. There seemed to be an argument happening in hushed voices on the other side of the radio channel.

_"...yes, but I think we could just let them have one monitor..."_

"...no, I can't..."

"Rodney, just one isn't going to change anything."

"Do you people not understand the meaning of the word "can't"?"

After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. As expected, Elizabeth reappeared.

"I uh... we seem to have a slight problem with that, right now, General."

"So I heard," he agreed. "Do you mind telling me why?"

"I think it.. there's a timeswitch.. ah.."

_"..That's not it at all. Oh, let me explain it!"_

There was a brief scuffling over the radio, and a moment later the voice changed. "Uh.. hi."

"Hi," O'Neill responded flatly. "And who am I speaking to now?"

"Rodney McKay. Uh. I can't turn your computers back on," the voice confessed. "At least, not from here. Uh, have you ever heard of a Dead Man's Switch?"

"Goes into action only when someone isn't telling it they're alive?" O'Neill asked. "What about it? And why can't you repair what, apparently, you broke?"

"Right, well, they're tremendously sneaky things, because you can hide them in systems for _ages_ and if someone doesn't know what they're looking for they won't go off," Rodney explained, sounding a little more eager now. "Which means that you can't actually do a rollback easily to repair the damage unless you know when exactly they installed them and-"

_"...Rodney! Get to the point!"_

"And anyway, the point is that I didn't put code in to break your machines now, it just got activated to go off a certain time after we missed reporting in. And uh. I can't repair it from here."

Daniel Jackson, O'Neill noted, had his head in his hands. He wasn't sure whether that was despair, or just trying not to laugh.

"Right," he said, very calmly. "So, what you're telling me that you've disabled the systems so that we can't repair them, and neither can you, when we're expecting Wraith attack? Did it not occur to any of you that this was a very stupid idea? For that matter, did it not occur to you that if something prevented you reporting in, at any point, we would be in deep trouble?"

"I... hadn't actually thought of that last point," Rodney admitted cautiously. "But, it's okay. My sister can repair your machines."

"Your sister?" Hadn't there been something he'd had to deal with about the sister too? O'Neill had the vaguest memory of a little girl with blonde hair.

"Yeah. She should be outside?" Rodney said, sounding hopeful. "On a bus? I sent her instructions on how to disable it."

Silently, O'Neill gestured to Lieutenent Elliott to fetch the people from the buses. Well, that was another mystery solved.

"The thing is," Rodney went on, "she'll only do that _if_ you evacuate all the people on the buses first."

O'Neill raised his eyebrows. "Evacuate them?"

There was rustling again, and then Elizabeth took over again. "Yes, General. They're our families, sir. We want them safe. Somewhere that isn't Earth."

"I suppose it's occured to you that I could promise anything and then break my word once you've fixed my computers?"

"Yes, sir, but we think you're probably an honourable man." She paused for a minute, and O'Neill heard frantic whispering. "Also, Rodney says that you've got no way of knowing if he's installed a second Dead Man's Switch to go off six hours after the first one, General."

Two buses of people through the stargate, in return for computers back up and running? It might be too much if it _weren't_ for the worry that Wraith might appear at any time. O'Neill nodded slightly. "Fair enough."

"Really?" Elizabeth's voice went into a squeak of surprised delight for a moment before she remembered herself. "Uh, I mean, that's great, General. Thank you."

_"..see? I would have made a great supervillian."_

"...uh, I think they can still hear you, Rodney..."

Through his hands, Jackson gave a snort of muffled laughter. O'Neill just closed his eyes.

* * *

David had believed Jeannie. Of course he had believed her. You didn't throw eighty thousand dollars of someone else's money away unless you believed there was a really good reason, and there had been enough in the emails, enough passed on from her brother that he could believe they really were in contact from John. It was still a leap from there, admittedly, to believe that John too was telling the truth but in the end he'd managed it.

There had been moments when he had doubted that, when he had wondered if that acceptance was only because he didn't want to believe his kid brother would lie about something that big.

But here they were. Here they were, with a couple of soldiers escorting them into the base, and everyone seeming to take them very seriously, and apparently it was all real. There was a blue glowing _thing_ in front of them, and even his father seemed to be knocked speechless as some guy explained how they were going to be evacuated. Not so much because of the evacuation, evacuation was a perfectly understandable concept; but evacuation to another _planet_ to save them from _invading aliens_ was a bit harder to swallow.

Hell, it was even hard to swallow for David, and he'd known about it in advance.

He felt a light tug on his arm, and looked down to see Jeannie, her smile a little anxious. If this was unnerving for him and the adults, how was it for the ten year old who was in it up to her neck? "Everything okay?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

She nodded, and then bit her lip. "I've got to fix the computers for them."

He'd known that, it had been part of the plan, but the plan seemed a lot more serious in here with very grave-looking people in uniform staring at them all hard than it had out there. "You can, right? You know how?"

Another quick nod. "Mer told me what he did -- it only has to be fixed on the server anyhow. Just changes linking back to the start-up script set to kick in when he knew we'd need them."

And David had understood very little of that sentence, but it sounded as though Jeannie did and that was what was important. "So, no problem, right?" he said hopefully.

Jeannie looked awkward, lowering her head for a moment, shifting from foot to foot. "There's going to be an awful lot of people watching."

Now he understood. There was a moment of surprise -- the little kid from Canada who had managed to set _him_ up for a surprise meeting could be _shy_? But working with a lot of important people staring over your shoulder could be intimidating -- even working with his _fathe_r staring over his shoulder could be intimidating. And she was _ten._ Hard enough for an adult.

"Your parents will be there, right?" he suggested hopefully, glancing around to see where they'd gotten to.

She managed a slight smile at that. "They're already arguing with the guys in charge that letting me do it is exploiting child labour. I don't think they quite believe that me and Rodney are the ones who broke it."

"Right." He knew what was expected of him, even if part of him screamed that this wasn't what they had agreed, that his part was meant to be _done_. Giving her a hand now would pretty much put an end to any idea that he could get out of this without his father knowing he was involved, that the chaos afterwards would mean that the missing money wouldn't get noted.

But, did he even need to avoid that any more, when it turned out that they had been right, that the ridiculous, weird, _impossible _story had been true? And even if he did, even if it would end up badly... she was ten.

She was only ten.

She should have someone -- an older brother there to watch out for her or something, but he wasn't here right now. And David had a kid brother somewhere who was undoubtably getting into more trouble than he'd ever been in before, but he wasn't here either. It seemed sensible that they both filled those gaps, just for now.

It took only a moment to decide, and offer her a hand. She grasped it gratefully, and he nodded to her. "Come on then."

He knew the walk, the calm stride that said he knew where he was going and had important business so it was best to leave him alone. It took him to the nearest console, and he glared at the first guy who came up and tried to stop Jeannie getting near it.

"She knows what she's doing," he said firmly. "It's what she's here to do." The man hesitated, and that was long enough for David to step in front of Jeannie, shielding her from view as she sat down, letting her work in peace. "Go on," he encouraged quietly. "Go on. You're going to do it, just fine."

* * *

If ever there was any proof of miracles, Jack thought, having a spare city-ship turn up outfitted and ready for use just before a Wraith invasion had to be one of them.

He stared at the newly restored screen, still busy convincing his brain to accept what was there. The computers were back up and running, the families were ready to evacuate -- and not a moment too soon, because if Mr. Kavanagh threatened to write to his congressman _one more time, _there was going to be violence, and... there was a city-ship. Where it shouldn't be, where it _couldn't _be, impossibly far from where it had started, those mad, terrifying, wonderful, _genius_ children had brought them a city-ship. Just in time to fight off alien attack.

Something pinched the back of his hand. He slapped at it automatically. "Hey!"

"Sorry." Jackson joined him at the screen. "You had that look as if you thought you might be dreaming. I thought you might want something to reassure you that you weren't."

"If I wake up now, believe me, pissed off won't cover it." O'Neill rubbed the back of his hand. "Civilians all ready to go, before we deal with our young super-villains in training?"

"Yes. Well, they're not all civilians," Jackson reminded him. "Colonel Carter is going, and there's Colonel Sheppard."

"I'd forgotten about them." That got his attention from the screen for a moment. "How are they taking it?"

The reply was a chuckle. "Don't think they know whether to explode first with pride, worry or fury. They've just been told that their children have risked their lives bringing a _city_ to save the world, against all rules and regulations. How do you _think _they're taking it?"

"Well, as soon as we have them away to Alpha Site, we can send the kids up after them and they can spank them themselves," O'Neill said decisively. "After we've retrieved them and explained why you don't blackmail commanding officers by turning their computers off."

Jackson grinned. "Don't be too hard on them. They did bring you a city-ship."

"I must admit, as far as make-up gifts go, you can't get much bigger." He eyed the screen again for a moment. "All right. Let's get these guys off."

There was only one more thing to do before they sent the assembled group off to safety, and that was to grab the little girl again just before she went through the gate.

"Just a couple more questions for you, please, before you leave us."

Of course, that drew objections from her father. "What are you wanting with Jeannie? Hasn't she done enough for you for one day?"

O'Neill ignored him, looking down at the girl. "Your brother said he might have installed a second timeswitch in case we broke our word. Did he?"

He was almost certain the boy had been bluffing -- cleverly, but still bluffing -- but he had to check. Jeannie was quiet for a moment, as though considering her options. "If I tell you now, you might still break your word," she pointed out.

"Right." It was an understandable argument, if an extremely irritating one. "Fine. Send the parents through first, then answer us."

Now it was the child's mother who protested, clutching at Jeannie's shoulder. "We're not leaving her behind! You're not having another of our kids."

O'Neill fixed her with a glare. "She'll be coming after you in five minutes, tops. After today, do you think any of us want to spend more time than we have to with _either_ of your offspring?"

"I'll be fine, Mom." Jeannie patted her hand reassuringly. "I just need to sort this out."

"I'll stay with her," the older Sheppard boy -- how had _he_ gotten involved in this? -- volunteered. "Make sure she gets through all right."

It drew odd glances from the girls' parents, and Jeannie herself peered up at the boy for a moment, her eyes narrowed, before she nodded. "Yeah, okay," she agreed. "He can stay."

It took a little more persuasion, a little more coaxing before the adults could be convinced to leave without their daughter, but eventually the room was almost cleared, and O'Neill could breathe a sigh of relief at having most of the people out of his way.

"Second timeswitch?" he prompted again. "Is there one?"

This time the child nodded, and pointed to the machine used to operate the gate. "If you didn't let us go, it'd have locked out your gate access after six hours," she admitted. "Mer said that if we didn't get to go somewhere safe, nobody was. I can fix it though."

"He hacked into the DHD?" O'Neill said disbelievingly. He wanted to call it a lie, but... these kids had steered a city-ship to Earth. This was probably not the day to call anything they did impossible. "That boy is a menace," He made a mental note that the kid probably needed evaluation if he was putting into practice those kinds of threats. That, or promotion. Sometimes it could be hard to tell. "Fine, go ahead."

She grinned, and the Sheppard boy followed her as she took over the console, frowning deeply to herself as she tapped in instructions. What she was doing clearly required concentration.

Then she looked up, and the next few moments were a blur of moment. There was no time to register what she was doing as she pulled away from the DHD, heading for the stargate at a dead run, almost throwing herself through it. The boy, David, looked after her, and for a moment O'Neill read pure shock on his features before he followed her, too close and too fast to grab before he too was gone.

Of course, by that time O'Neill was already moving, body knowing what to do almost before his brain did, ready to go after those kids and drag them back by the scruff of their necks if he had to. He was only a few seconds behind them, but a few seconds was too long.

_"Stargate Command, do not try to come through the stargate!"_ The voice over the radio was Elizabeth Weir's, sharp with urgency, and O'Neill stopped himself so abruptly in his tracks that he almost fell over. _"We have activated the shield on our side of the stargate. I repeat, do not try to come through. Please! We don't want anybody hurt." _

"Looks like she dialed Atlantis while she was fiddling about there," Jackson announced unneccesarily, moving to check the DHD. "I think you just got outsmarted by a ten year old."

"Wonderful," O'Neill said sourly, eying the stargate and wondering what the hell he was meant to do _now._ "With the great brains we clearly have here, I can see that the Wraith will be no problem at all."

***

Once relief had hit them, and then the joy of realising that their plan had _worked_, the whole thing had _worked,_ and not only were they alive but their families were going to be safe too, things drifted into a party-like atmosphere. They'd clustered together around the radio, everyone slightly giggly and silly with over-excitement and triumph. Elizabeth had been nervous, but every time she spoke to Earth and got away with it she'd got a round of hugs and well-dones. Rodney _hadn't _been nervous, and when he'd forgotten the radio was there John had laughed so much he'd gone red in the face. There had been wrestling for the radio, punctuated by whispers of _"no, look, let me talk to them -- look, they're talking!_". It was probably a very good thing that they only had an audio connection. Silly behaviour, but they were kids, and they'd just successfully ensured, by out-thinking a group of _really smart _adults, that everyone they loved back on Earth was going to be evacuated to safety. A certain amount of messing around was to be expected.

Which was why, in part, no one had been on guard for people coming through the stargate. They'd all frozen in shock for a moment as a girl came stumbling through, and Rodney only had a fraction of a second to recognise her as his sister before somebody else came through after her, and she was racing towards them, shouting to block the gate somehow, turn it off if they could.

Radek, sitting at the console, had hesitated, glancing at Rodney, and Rodney had nodded because it was his _sister_, and if he didn't understand what was going on at least he could trust her enough to wait until it was done for the explanation. Elizabeth had been quick-witted enough to take over the radio again and tell Stargate Command, and thank God for that, because Rodney had read what happened to people who tried to come through when the shield was up and they were all way too young to end up on trial for murder.

Teyla and Ronon had jumped up in alarm, both of them moving quickly towards the gate. It took no more than a moment for Teyla to grab Jeannie, stopping her from moving any further towards the console, and for Ronon to have a firm grip on the other guy. Rodney found himself glad of that too, because who knew why the guy had been chasing Jeannie? She'd clearly come through running from _something._

"Let me go!" It didn't look as though the guy liked at all being held either, because he squirmed, fighting against Ronon's hold. Rodney could have _told _him that that would do know good. Ronon merely shifted his grip a little and ignored him.

"Who are they?" Teyla wasn't hurting Jeannie, not from the look of it, just restraining her gently in case she tried to escape. "Rodney?"

"It's my sister," he confirmed, still bewildered as to what exactly she was doing _here, _but.. "You can let her go."

Teyla released her, and maybe Rodney should have predicted that Jeannie's next move would be to race over and tackle him into a hug, but he didn't and the impact sent him staggering back a step or two.

"And this one?" Ronon demanded, still holding on to his captive.

"Don't... know him," Rodney wheezed, slightly winded.

"Oh, that's David." Jeannie offered, looking up and offering a sunny smile to Ronon. "You can let him go now."

"He's my brother," John said quietly, and he sounded... odd, as though he wasn't sure quite how to react to his brother being here on Atlantis. Rodney couldn't blame him for that. He was surprised enough by Jeannie.

Notably, there was no hug when Ronon released David. He and John just looked at each other for a moment, as an awkward silence lingered over the rest of them, neither of them seeming to know how to greet each other.

It was Elizabeth who broke the silence. "I'm sure you're both very welcome here," she said carefully, although her voice was warm, "but might we know what brings you here? Why the shields? Are we under attack?"

It seemed natural for everyone to look at David, Rodney included. He was the older one after all, and it seemed more likely he could give an explanation. Stared at like that though, he looked uncomfortable.

"I just followed the kid," he admitted, after another moment of silence. "Don't ask me. I just... she seemed to know where she was going, but I figured she was too small to go on her own."

"Jeannie?" Rodney said doubtfully, glancing at her, unsure whether to trust what the guy said. On the one hand, it was John's brother. On the other, John didn't actually seem to like him, so..

"They were planning to come get you," Jeannie explained, bright-eyed with excitement. "I heard them talking while I was working -- once they had everyone else evacuated, they were just going to come and evacuate you too and use the ship. So... so I thought you might need a warning." She looked around, her eyes widening as she took in the rest of the room. "Isn't it _big_?"

"Wait until you see the rest of the city," John commented. He looked thoughtful, considering a moment. "Right. We keep the shield up then. If they can't get though the stargate, I don't think they have any way to _make_ us leave."

"They're going to be really annoyed," Elizabeth warned. "I mean, _really_ annoyed."

"And do what, send us to our rooms?" John asked. "It's not as though they have any effective threats that will work against people who, you know,_ have charge of a ship the size of a city."_

It didn't take the worried look off Elizabeth's face, but she nodded. "What would you like me to tell them?"

"Excuse me?" Carson raised his hand. "May I ask something? Why are we arguing _against _the adults, who presumably have experience in these things, using Atlantis to save everybody while we get to go evacuate safely? I mean, wouldn't that be a _good_ thing?"

"You can't trust them," Ronon answered that firmly.

"They have told a lot of lies," Teyla agreed, "to all of us here."

"He has a point though," Rodney said slowly. Given a choice between dying a glorious death saving the world, and going to wait with his family while someone else took care of all that, the latter option seemed like the more tempting plan. "I mean, what lie are we expecting them to tell here? 'Haha, now you're off the city, we're just going to let it sit here and do nothing with it'? I don't think that's likely.. and they _have_ got more experience."

"You never know," Ronon answered, his expression wary, and Rodney prickled with irritation because that _wasn't _a logical argument.

"It's not that we can't trust them," John said slowly. "It's what they'll do. If we give them Atlantis they're just going to see.. a great big weapon, and use it to fight with. And.. that won't work. I _know_ it won't work, because I tried it and it didn't and.." He swallowed, not finishing that sentence. Rodney guessed he wasn't the only one still having nightmares after the replicators. "Anyway, they're not going to listen to us if we say that's a really bad plan, are they? Not if they think we're only kids."

"You are only kids," David pointed out a little incredulously, having listened to this in silence. "I know you think you know what you're doing here but.."

"We're _really smart _kids," Rodney corrected that firmly, before he could go any further. "At least, some of us are."

"So, you have a plan?" David challenged, and Rodney decided then and there that he wasn't _going_ to like him. "One that you think will be better than one adults with several decades of experience can put together?"

"No." John answered that quietly, voice resolute. "We don't. But we _will_ have. And.. however much experience they've got, I'm fairly certain they've got none at actually dying at the hands of the Wraith. I'm pretty sure we have them beat there."

David looked them over again, and Rodney unconsciously tried to stand taller, glaring back. He didn't look all _that_ much older than them. "And what do you have in mind for this great plan of yours?"

"Rodney?" And he couldn't say he was _surprised_ when John looked at him. He wanted to yell that they'd already managed to reach Earth at impossible speeds and live, and there was probably a limit to the amount of miracles any one person could do in a week, but he wasn't _surprised_. "Can you guys work something out?"

The problem was, he couldn't _say _that. Not with David looking at them and _expecting_ them to fail. "Sure," he said flatly.

A hand tugged on his, and he looked down, startled.

"It's okay," Jeannie whispered confidingly. "I'll help."

* * *

"You don't actually understand a single word he just said, did you?" David challenged.

John sighed and fought down the wish that they had enough time to just punch him and get it over with. A quick scuffle to just clear the air could have made life _so_ much easier. But, it seemed the world might be ending, so there was no time.

"I understood _every_ word he said," he rebutted firmly. "Granted, I might have got a little confused in the way he put them together, but..."

"It's perfectly simple," Rodney protested. "I broke it all down for you. _Look,_ you use the mirror to-"

John held up a hand hastily to stop him. "It's fine, Rodney, I heard you the first two times," he said quickly. "It's not the hearing I have issues with, it's just the way you get through two sentences before my brain turns off. Okay, maybe I _don't _understand the mechanics behind it, but that doesn't matter, does it? You guys do, right?"

Rodney looked annoyed, but nodded. Sam nodded. Radek nodded. Even _Jeannie _nodded.

"I don't understand where you people have a problem," Rodney complained. "It's _literally_ so easy that a child could understand it."

"Uh, I don't think Jeannie counts, Rodney," John said mildly. "Any more than we do. Right, so, we've established that we have a plan, so all we need to do is fetch the quantum mirror and we're fine."

"No," David corrected insistently. "No, you are not fine. How do you know this plan isn't going to get you all killed if you don't actually understand how it works?"

John sighed again, and looked at Rodney. "Rodney, is this plan going to get us all killed?"

Stupid thing to do. Should have asked Sam instead, or Radek, because Rodney looked uncomfortable, shifted from foot to foot, and said, "...uh. Maybe?"

"_Thank_ you," David said triumphantly. "John, how do you expect me to explain to Dad if I have to come back and tell him you're dead?"

"Well, since he hasn't written me more than ten sentences a year for the last five years, frankly I don't expect him to care," John said sharply, patience worn to breaking point. "And we might have a "maybe" on dying if we do this, but I can put a "definitely" on everyone else dying if we don't." He turned away, shoulders tense, busy on _working_ and not wanting to see David's reaction. "Right, _so_ we need this mirror. Clearly we can't use the stargate to go get it, but we still have puddlejumpers, so..."

"Puddlejumpers?" David asked behind him, and John closed his eyes for a moment.

"Ships," he grated. "Very small ships. Now. if I take Teyla and Ronon, we can go down and.."

"Hold it." This time it was Elizabeth who interrupted, though she at least looked apologetic about it. "You can't."

"We can't take a puddlejumper?" John looked at her, baffled.

"No," Elizabeth corrected. "You can't take a puddlejumper." He continued to stare at her, confused, until she clarified. "You're the only one we've got who can fly the city, John! What if the Wraith attack while you're down there and you can't get back in time? What if General O'Neill gets someone to grab you, and you can't get back at all?"

It made sense, even if he hated it. There was no fun to be had hanging out here, just in case they got attacked. "Right so, uh... Aiden-" he started, before remembering that Aiden had been with everyone else they evacuated in case something went wrong, and glancing around for better ideas. "You can't fly, can you, Sam?" he said hopefully, looking at her.

She shook her head regretfully. "Carson's thing didn't work on me."

And that left only one obvious suggestion, Carson himself. John looked at him hopefully.

"Oh, no." Carson had guessed what was coming, and was already edging away, as though ready to actually run away if they tried to force him. "I'm no _good_ at flying."

"He really isn't," Rodney agreed, having watched more than one flying lesson from a safe place on the ground. "Flies like a penguin. A very drunk penguin."

"Well, it's you or me," John pointed out. "You could stay here," Carson looked relieved, "and I'd go down. But then you'd have to fly the whole city if the Wraith suddenly arrived, or I got stuck." Carson stopped looking relieved again.

"Ronon and I will be with you," Teyla added soothingly.

"That doesn't actually make it better if it means I crash with all of us!" Carson protested.

"Carson, please." There were ways and ways to get things done, John knew. Some people responded to orders. Carson required.. coaxing. "I know you don't like flying but.. we really need this mirror. And no one else can fly to get it."

It was the right approach. Carson glared at him unhappily, but nodded. He might not like it, but he _wouldn't _walk away from something that had to be done. "I'll go."

"You probably ought to have someone with you who actually knows what it'll look like as well." John's gaze automatically fell on Rodney, but Sam was already standing up.

"I'll go."

Rodney stared at her suspiciously for a moment. "Not that I'm not happy to avoid Carson's Deathmobile, but why?"

"Because I've seen you shooting. And they could probably use someone with them who isn't just as likely to shoot them in the back by accident as shoot someone who's trying to stop them," Sam said cheerfully.

"Set your guns to stun while you're down there," John said hastily. They had spent some time very happily, previously, discovering just how easy it was to modify the battle room guns for use outside the battleroom, but that didn't mean he wanted anybody seriously hurt. Not anyone on Earth, anyway.

"You have _guns_?" He didn't have to look to know David was raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, we have guns. We've spent the last eight years with the military trying to train us up to be soldiers they had no intention of _using_ until it was too late so we damn well better have guns," John said, that sharpness back in his voice again. It was too hard to just do what he had to, to just _do his job,_ with an older brother watching over his shoulder, watching every move he made. He hesitated a moment, and then glanced at Ronon. "Take him with you. You might need the backup." And he needed the time to talk to Rodney and work out what they were doing without worrying that David would question any conclusion he came to.

* * *

"Fly carefully!"

"I'm flying it bloody carefully! It's the puddlejumper that isn't!" The little ship jumped and skidded across the sky as Carson tried to get control over it. Teyla, Sam and Ronon had retired into the back, presumably on the logic that if they couldn't see what was in front of them it might be less likely to make them throw up. Or less likely to kill them. One of the two.

David was still in the front, watching through his fingers. Carson wished he could do the same. "You do realize we aren't being chased any more? It's okay to go in a straight line now!" There had been aircraft chasing after them when they first took off, carrying the Quantum Mirror with them, but the ship's shield had protected them from any fire they attempted, and they'd given up at around the point that it looked as though Carson was about to crash into them. Not that this had been on purpose.

"It's a bit bloody hard to go in a straight line when the wind wants me to be over there!" Carson snarled at him, and glared at the sky, as though the intensity of his gaze could make it stay still a little longer.

"I thought John said you'd taken flying lessons in these things!"

"Yes, well! I missed more of them than him. I was _busy!_" Busy doing anything that wasn't flying usually. John had loved them, had flown them as though they were an extension of his own body. Carson had usually spent the time after the lesson throwing up.

"Busy doing anything that could potentially save our lives in the next hour?" David asked from between his fingers.

"Actually, _yes!_" A jerk of the controls, and wonderously, miraculously, the puddlejumper started on a steady climb upwards. Carson allowed himself to relax a little. "I'm a doctor," he said more quietly. "Or, at least, I would be. If I wasn't fifteen."

"Right." David lowered his hands, and looked at him querulously, and Carson could hear the the question in that look before he spoke it. "You mean, you've done some medical training up there?"

"No, I mean I've done all the medical training," Carson corrected -- not angrily, just calmly. "And some more advanced and specialist work than would be required just for that. And a lot of on-the-job work." He chuckled at that. "Though I think your brother provided me with half of that. And Rodney provided me with the other half."

David stared at him, and it was easy to see him struggling to take that in. "So that's what? Cuts, bruises, sprains..."

"Concussions, dislocations, a few broken bones -- I didn't have equipment to fix those, but I could at least see enough to send them to the Infirmary. Shock, more times than I can count. Anaphylactic shock a few times -- Rodney's allergic to citrus, and while he's fairly obsessive about checking things, occasionally it catches him out," Carson reeled off. "And that's without getting into the weird and wonderful stuff. There's a lot of that."

"Right," David said, looking a little stunned. "So... pretty much what a doctor would do then. Except... at fifteen."

"Aye." Carson glanced at him sideways, and took pity on him after a minute or so. "It's the training," he said gently. "They picked us up when we were small, and already pretty smart, and they knew already exactly what they wanted us to be. So.. I suppose we didn't focus on all the normal stuff we would have back on Earth, because we were never going to be normal. They threw us at what we needed to be instead. So, if you start learning medical stuff at seven, you can be competant at fifteen. Do you see?"

David considered that for a moment, absorbing the idea of it. "So, the others.."

"Rodney, Sam and Radek between them have probably worked on things that would earn them a Nobel prize -- _several_ Nobel prizes," Carson said, "though don't say that to Rodney, or his head may explode. Just getting us to Earth, from what I understand, involved practically rewriting the laws of time and space. Teyla and Ronon -- well, you saw them when we were getting this mirror thing. They're pretty much an army between them with no one else involved. Elizabeth talks to people, which doesn't seem all that remarkable until you realize she's talking them out of attacking you, and into doing what she needs them to, at which point it becomes pretty bloody useful I can tell you. And John.. well. John can fly enough to get a ship the size of a _city _to Earth, and if you think that's easy you can guess again at how much fun I'm having with this one. And he.. John makes plans come _together."_

"He didn't seem to be the one thinking them out before!" David protested at that.

"No, he doesn't always," Carson agreed thoughtfully. "He lets other people do the thinking for him. But he's the one who believes things can work, and gets everyone else believing it. If you depended on Rodney to put a plan together you'd never get to do it because he would obsess fifty years over the chance of it failing. If I tried.. well." He was quiet for a moment.

"If you tried?" David prompted.

Carson looked at him. "I had a plan once," he said flatly, "for saving the world. It didn't work out."

Perhaps it was something in his face or voice that gave the idea that further questions wouldn't be the best idea, because the rest of the journey back was conducted in silence. Carson could perhaps have started the conversation up again, changed to a different subject, but it was easier to focus on the flying, and concentrate on getting them back safely.

Landing in Atlantis was bumpy, but Carson's landings were _alway_s bumpy. That didn't usually neccesitate a welcoming committee, The doors to the puddlejumper were open almost as soon as it drew to a juddering halt, and Radek and Rodney were there, seizing the quantum mirror, dragging it out. Carson was about to grumble at them, to complain that they might have at least said hello first, but Elizabeth was there too, and her expression froze the words in his throat.

"Thank goodness you're back."

"What is it?" It put Carson instantly on alert. "Who's hurt?" He moved quickly, for once beating the others out of the puddlejumper, ignoring flight-wobbly legs.

"No one." She shook her head, but didn't smile, didn't do anything to relieve that sudden nervous anticipation. "But we thought we were going to have to leave without you. It just flashed up on the scanners. The Wraith are coming."


	12. Endgame Pt 2

"The quantum mirror?" O'Neill stared baffled at the report coming in from Area 51. "What the hell do they want _that_ for?"

"Hopefully, not to ship in help from another universe," Jackson commented. "I suppose they could be thinking they could bring themselves over to provide back-up, if they needed the extra hands."

"Or they could just have, I don't know,_ let us on the damn ship_, so we could provide the extra hands," O'Neill said, frustrated. "Goddamn _stupid_ kids!"

"Yeah. After we kidnapped them as children, told them multiple lies about why they were there, and then planned to steal the ship's control from under them, I can't think why they wouldn't trust us to do that," Jackson agreed mildly, taking the report from him and scanning it. "Face it, if they were naive enough to do that, you wouldn't have had them up there in the first place."

O'Neill might have replied, but they were interrupted -- first by the shrill wail of alarms, and then by alarmed shouts from those manning the scanners. The pair exchanged glances, expressions suddenly grim as O'Neill stood up. He didn't need to look at the screens to know what they were likely to show, but he did anyway, wincing at the size of the fleet approaching.

"Looks like that's us out of time," he said heavily. "Start getting those left in here evacuated to Alpha Site. If we can't negotiate with the kids to let us on-board, we'll have to work with what we already had prepared."

"They're likely to at least try to help," Jackson offered, eyes fixed on the little dots which signalled that death was flying closer every moment. "We know that they're at least planning _something_ up there, even if we don't know exactly what."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," O'Neill agreed. "Because now, instead of just dealing with soul-sucking monsters bouncing around above my planet, I'm also dealing with the crazed teenagers. I'm not sure which is more frightening." He shook his head, turning away. "Right! Let's start getting people moving. This is _not _a drill, this _is_ the Apocalypse, a little urgency would be just dandy.. Daniel, can you keep trying to contact Atlantis? Just on the chance in hell that they suddenly realize we're not just _playing_ at fighting big scary monsters."

"Do I need to ask where you're heading?" Jackson asked, and O'Neill suspected that he really didn't. There was only a certain amount of time you could work together before you knew each other inside-out.

He answered anyway, already moving, knowing there was no _time_ to stand around and discuss what needed to be done. The time for discussion was long-past now. "You really think I'm gonna sit here while they go bounce around in a ship fighting Wraith?" He glanced back, offering a quick sharp smile. "Why should they get all the fun?"

"I just don't understand how you expect this whole ship -- the size of a city, you said it was? How you expect all that to fit through this," David repeated, perplexed, still staring at the thing they had.. borrowed from Area 51. "It's not exactly big."

He was out of his depth, and knew it, but it was difficult just to accept that and sit down and let everyone else get on with the business of.. saving the world, if that was what this was. He didn't understand what was going on, and if he didn't understand it, it was hard to accept that it was going to work all right.

Rodney huffed a breath, clearly exasperated, bending over his work. "It's not going to _stay_ this size. Not once we start feeding it power. The ZPM should give it the power to expand."

David walked around, hoping that looking at the object would make it more obvious how that was to happen. It didn't. "Expand how?" he asked, struggling to grasp it. "Like a bubble?"

"No!" Rodney snapped, straightening up. "Not at all like a bubble! What is it with you and John and your stupid metaphors? You can't make _everything_ simple!"

David blinked. "Uh.." Being included in the same grouping as his younger brother wasn't something that happened often -- or at all, actually.

"It's _exactly_ like a bubble," Jeannie corrected cheerfully, crouched on the floor. "You blow on it, it expands. It's just the ZPM doing the blowing."

"Except in _sixteen different dimensions._" Rodney corrected, scowling at her in a way that made David want to give him a shake and remind him Jeannie was just a kid.

She grinned at him though, clearly undeterred. "I didn't say it _was_ a bubble. Just.. like one."

"Okay." Think bubble, think bubble. David considered for a moment. "So, how are you going to get it outside the ship to pass through it? I mean, you're not going to be able to grown it large enough for the ship to pass through while it's _in_ the ship. I mean, is there like a claw to hold it with, or.."

"This is why we don't use stupid metaphors to describe things," Rodney addressed the world in general. "Because people take them too literally."

Sam laughed, looking up. "It's going to expand through us," she explained. "It'll keep growing until it's big enough to encapsulate us and everything we need to take with us. Then.. we flip it. Everything in the circle goes through the mirror."

"Doesn't that take an awful lot of power?" It was hard to imagine how much -- even big enough to hold the city would be huge.

"Yes," Rodney confirmed grimly. "And we already used most of one ZPM _getting_ here. That leaves two, and we still need power to run all life-support systems. We'll be cutting it fine."

"How fine exactly?" They were kids, throwing around a lot of impressive terms and using a lot of fancy equipment. But David had seen, the fleet outside and flashing up ever closer was a _real_ fleet, and there was a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

This time Rodney didn't look around, moving to a console and starting to tap in a complicated list of instructions. "You really don't want to know."

* * *

"You sure you don't want to be the one in the driver's seat?" John queried, teasing, and Carson shook his head hastily.

"Thanks, but I'll leave that part to you," he said firmly. "I'm here for doctoring. Not, I hope, that you'll be needing any of that afterwards."

"Let's hope none of us do," John murmured, half to himself, sitting back in the chair. Instantly the room lit up in a way that was becoming familiar. "Okay. Let's see how close we can get to these guys."

Slowly, the city began to move, more smoothly this time than it had before John was pleased to note. He was just starting to get the _hang_ of this thing.

"Uh, they can't see us, right?" Carson said nervously. "We _are _cloaked?"

"Until we get close enough, yeah," John agreed, frowning in concentration. "Then we switch to shields. No good being invisible if we accidentally get smushed by one of them trying to fly right through us because we have no shields up."

"We can't have cloak _and _shields?"

"No. I thought that was a bit of a design flaw too," John admitted. "I guess that's Ancients for you. Smart enough to build cities that can read your brain for instructions, but not smart enough to install a back-up power device so you can be invisible while _also_ not getting shot." He grimaced, and then the city was suddenly still as he sat up, staring out the window in front of them. "Would you look at that?"

Carson looked, and stared. Around them lay Wraith ships -- not just one or two Wraith ships but dozens of them. All of them huge, all of them no doubt equipped to the teeth.

And they had Atlantis. Just Atlantis.

"You know," he said very quietly, "we don't have to do this."

"Yeah," John said softly, trying not to count the ships, trying not to let himself think how truly out-numbered they were. Trying not remember what it was like to lose, and crash and _die._ "Except, you know, we really do, don't we?"

Carson turned and looked again, face very pale as he stared at ship after ship after ship. Slowly, he nodded.

"Right." John sat back, forcing himself to shake off the fear and smile. If this was going to be maybe your last flight ever, better to at least enjoy it. They certainly had a ship worth enjoying it in. "Nothing to it. More of them makes them easier to shoot, right?"

And he flipped off the cloak, and on with the shield.

* * *

"Where the _hell _are they?" It was difficult to lose an entire city-ship, but they were clearly cloaking themselves somewhere. The question was _where?_

"Presumably they're not planning on just playing hide and seek until it's all over," O'Neill griped to himself sourly, "But as to what they think they're playing at.."

The other ships were already turning towards the Wraith. Earth's fleet, pathetically small when you saw what you were actually trying to fight, but you had to try, didn't you? When the alternative was sit back and watch your planet go to hell, you kept fighting.

Back on Earth, they would already be packing up and getting out. All the important politicians, everyone who was deemed to have information that they couldn't afford to let the Wraith have, all of those would be sent through the stargate as quickly as they could manage it. It was just.. everyone else they had to worry about. All of the normal people, still happily living their normal lives down there, without a clue what was about to hit them.

All of the normal people, not even guessing that all of the important guys were leaving, fleeing a battle they were certain was lost before it had begun.

The radio crackled. "Jack? We've found them."

"Copy that." It was Jackson's voice. He too was one of the few people likely to get a chance to leave, and stick it out. "If you tell me I've come all the way up here and they're hiding back on Earth, I'll..."

"No," Jackson interrupted him, sounding unhappy. "Look -- ah. Look at the Wraith fleet."

O'Neill did, arrowing towards it, and stared at the sight of a city-ship shooting and fighting in the center of the fleet.

Right in the center. What were those kids _playing_ at?

Well, probably exactly what he'd play at given half a chance, but he wasn't fifteen.

"Copy that," he said again, and accelerated. If he was going to do this, it had to be fast. Fast enough to reach them without getting hit himself. "On my way."

* * *

"It's working! They're drawing in around us!" Radek called excitably, eyes on the screen. "Sixty per cent of needed size."

"How are we doing for power?" Rodney straightened up with a sigh and came to peer at it, vying with Sam for best position behind Radek. Even David came to look, though Rodney was almost certain he didn't _understand _any of it.

"Used fifteen per cent of our second ZPM," Radek said happily. "Less than projected."

"Yes, but our shields.." Rodney started, never comfortable just accepting good news. Good news never lasted for long. It always seemed _great_ just before it blew up in your face, and then you were stuck without eyebrows for six weeks.

"Shields still at ninety four per cent," Radek said smugly, gesturing to his monitor.

"We're getting hit, but John's keeping them occupied by using the drones," Sam observed. "They're shooting at them, as much as at us. If he can keep that up.."

"..then we will be finishing and home with a more than safe margin," Radek completed, and twisted to beam at Rodney. "We are doing _fine,_ Rodney. We are doing more than fine. It is all working better than it should."

"I suppose that if-" Rodney started, and was cut off by David, the older boy's voice suddenly stiff.

"Guys.."

"I was _talking,_" Rodney started indignantly, but David shook his head. It seemed the only part of him that he could move, the rest of him frozen in place like some strange half-statue.

"Guys -- _Rodney_ -- just.. look._ Look."_

It took a moment to realize what he meant, and look, not at David, but ahead of them, to the other side of the room.

To the other side of the room, where Acastus Kolya stood with -- twenty? twenty-five? -- others, all of them grouped around him, all of them silent and still.

And he was holding Jeannie.

It took a moment for Rodney's brain to process that, to _understand_ that, because it couldn't be true. They couldn't be here, they couldn't be anywhere but on the Alpha Site, evacuated with the rest. Certainly, they couldn't have grabbed Jeannie. Not when he'd been right here. He had only been metres away!

But they had grabbed Jeannie. Quietly, efficiently, and while Rodney had been too busy staring at graphs and figures to even notice.

The little girl's eyes were wide, though a hand over her mouth had been sufficient to stop her from crying out and alerting them. She wasn't fighting but standing stiffly, and it took a second to see the gun in Kolya's hand and understand why.

Being grabbed by Kolya at twelve years old, being at the mercy of the fists of him and his group had been terrifying. It was impossible to even rate how much more terrifying it was to see him standing with Jeannie, and a gun, and a horribly calm smile. Rodney froze, his thoughts running in frightened circles: _He has a gun. He has my little sister. He has my little sister **and** a gun._

"We were all staring at the screens," David noted, almost apologising for it, his voice dull. "We didn't -- I didn't look up."

"Good to have a little private time to talk with you again, Rodney McKay," Kolya observed, as though they were just stumbling across each other in the cafeteria with no younger siblings or deadly weapons involved at all. "Step away from the consoles please. All of you."

What choice was there but obediance? They moved slowly, reluctantly, stepping back. From the corner of his eye, Rodney saw Sam, her arm half-hidden by the console, reach slowly towards her gun.

Either Kolya saw it too, or he saw Rodney's eyes flicker as he registered the movement. It barely mattered which. It took only a quick nod to one of his group, gesturing towards Sam with his head, and the boy fired. Sam cried out quietly, clutching at her arm, and Rodney saw the dark stain of blood starting to seep through her sleeve.

"Weapons on the floor, please, and hands in the air," Kolya spoke almost conversationally into the shocked silence that followed. "There are a lot of scientists here. We can easily cope if we have to lose a couple of them."

He meant it, Rodney knew, doing as he was told with shaking hands. Someone else might have spoken it, and it would have only been a threat or a boast, something to never be carried out. Kolya... he had believed Kolya was capable of killing him three years ago. He was_ definitely_ capable of it now.

Another quick gesture and a small group headed towards them, roughly patting them down before they grabbed them. Sam yelped again, a quick cut-off cry, as two boys caught hold of her with little care for her injury, and Rodney, glancing sideways at her, was frightened by how white she looked.

"The monitors!" Radek protested, struggling as he was hauled back, and spat a string of incoherent curses at his captors as he was backhanded for his trouble. "If someone is not watching the monitors, then no one will be knowing if we are about to explode!" he snapped desperately, angrily.

"No, no, no, no -- he's right!" Rodney said hastily, before Radek could earn himself another blow across the face. "These are very delicate processes -- you can't just set them running and go away! If we don't know how the shields are, or the power, or, or the engine temperature, we don't know if the life support systems will fail, or the shields and about to go down, or-"

"Stop talking now," Kolya advised him, but he nodded to the boys holding Radek. "Let him look," he said, "break his arm if he tries touching anything."

Radek paled, and hunched a little as though trying to appear smaller as he fixed his eyes on the screen, staring at it unblinkingly. Maybe it was just easier than looking at anything else in the room.

Rodney wished he'd thought to protest the same as Kolya turned to him. But, no -- he couldn't do that, could he? Not when the guy had hold of his sister.

"The others, McKay," Kolya said quietly. "Where are they?"

Where were they? Tell him, and then what would happen? Rodney stared at him, stared at the gun, unable to speak, tongue suddenly too big for his mouth.

"You talk at the wrong times, McKay," Kolya warned, and pressed the gun into Jeannie's stomach. She made a quiet frightened noise against his hand, trying to pull away from it. "I suggest you learn to talk at the right times. I have no use for a little girl. I ask again, where are the others?"

"John's flying." Rodney thought at first that he'd said it without realising, but no, it came from David behind him. The older boy's eyes were fixed on the gun as though he were hypnotised by it. "Elizabeth is.. I think she was trying to talk to Control on Earth. I don't know where the others are."

Kolya smiled at him, a sharp smile which held no warmth whatsoever. "Isn't life easier when we all cooperate?" he suggested. "I have no idea who you are, but that was very helpful. Well_ done._ You can contact them?"

"John's piloting the city!" Rodney protested. "You can't -- he can't just _stop_."

"I don't believe I asked that," Kolya pointed out mildly, and as though that were a signal, one of Rodney's captors twisted his wrist, sharply enough to make him gasp. "You seem to have problems answering simple questions." He glanced again, curiously, at David. "You can answer me instead then. How would you contact them?"

"The radios," David answered, his tone reluctant. "They call each other on them -- look, let her go. She's just a little kid!"

"All in good time," Kolya said calmly, soothingly. "If everyone does as they're told, no one needs to get hurt." As though Sam wasn't already looking as though she was about to pass out, as though there were no guns at all involved. He looked at Rodney pointedly. "I believe you have some calling to do."

* * *

Had this been a computer game, it would have been the best game ever. John's mind went in a hundred directions at once, guiding drone after drone to its landing point, tearing at the Wraith fleet. The city worked with him, not a tool, a hammer to be used to hit a nail, but a living being, adjusting itself to his needs, understanding what he wanted doing the moment he needed it. They were a team, and the damage they did together caused the Wraith fleet to draw in more tightly around them, focusing on this new and unexpected threat.

He was half-conscious that Carson was next to him watching, could hear his quiet gasp at every new explosion. It was enough to egg him on, make him show just how adroitly he could send those drones, too quick and clever for them to be shot down, showing off.

_"John!"_ He didn't hear the crackle of the radio at first over the flash and bang of the fighting, was too focused to notice the voice coming from his belt. _"John, are you there? John!"_

"John!" Carson said meaningfully, startling him out of what he was doing. He swore under his breath as the Wraith, quick to take advantage of his distraction, shot one of his drones down.

"What-oh." There was something too desperate in Rodney's voice for John to ignore him, but still he answered it with some exasperation. "A little busy here, Rodney." If this was going to be some scathing comment about his flying, once they got out of here he was going to stick Rodney in a puddlejumper and do loop-the-loops until he'd given in complaining for good._ If _they got out of here.

"I know, I know." There was a note there, something different, something wrong in Rodney's voice that sent a warning tingle up John's spine. "Look, you've got to come down here, we've got uh... we've got a situation."

"Trying to pilot a city now, Rodney," John reminded him, still focusing most of his attention on controlling that flight, but that wrong note niggled at him, unsettled him. "What's wrong?"

"It's..." There was hesitation, what sounded like a sharply indrawn breath but might have been only the radio's static. "There's... there's a problem with the mirror," Rodney managed, speaking with an odd carefulness. "It's not expanding to the size it should be."

"Well, you can fix that, right?" John said optimistically, hoping Rodney just needed his usual jolt of encouragement to get him going. "Just... do something sciencey and get it to work."

"I can't!" Rodney snapped. "I uh.. It's like an elastic band. You can only stretch it so far!"

"Right." Something sounded wrong there, and John paused for a moment, trying to work out what it was before he responded. "What do you need me for there?"

"I don't know!" Rodney was shouting now, stressed, and sounding.. almost tearful? Maybe it was the radio. "I just need some help with it! Just.. can you get down here?"

John hesitated, and then nodded, not that Rodney could see that quick motion. "I'll be right there." He sat up forward in the chair, reaching down to turn off his transmitter. "Something's wrong."

"Aye, I heard that," Carson nodded, his face worried. "But if you go down there.."

John shook his head. "No, I mean, something's _wrong._ Have you _ever_ heard Rodney admitting he needed help in something when it involved science? His favored position is that if he can't do it, it can't be done."

Carson hesitated, mentally re-running the conversation in his head. "Maybe, in a situation as big as this one he knows he needs it?" he suggested cautiously.

"Ever heard him use a metaphor, where he can insert a long and confusing technical explanation instead?" John demanded. "That's not.. he doesn't _do_ that." He stood up, pulling himself out of the chair with an effort. "You can stand in for me, right?"

Carson gaped at him for a moment in purest horror. "In.. in flying? John, you know I can't, I mean I.."

"You're the only one we've got," John pointed out bluntly. "Look, just... keep us from crashing into anything as best you can. The shields should hold a while from what they said. I just... give me five minutes!"

"To do what?" Carson asked helplessly. "You think it's what, some kind of trap? And you're just going to walk right in?"

John shrugged, already setting off at a jog, not looking back to see whether Carson had done as he'd asked. "If he's yelling for help down there, he's in trouble. What other choice is there?"

* * *

"I'm telling you, I don't _know _why Carson's not answering!" Rodney snapped, and there was a terrified note beneath the anger that turned the stomach. "Maybe he's off being travelsick somewhere. Maybe his radio's got a fault. Hurting me more isn't going to magically make him suddenly reply!"

It was a logical enough answer, but it didn't seem to be working on Kolya. David squeezed his eyes shut and twisted his head away, but with his arms held behind his back there was no way to cover his ears and block out Rodney's yell of pain. It was both horrifying and sickening how much pain could seem to be produced with a knife, and relatively little mess, and he found himself wondering again what kind of person you had to be in the first place to think it a good idea to give these kids free access to weapons.

"Try again," Kolya instructed, steel beneath the calmness of his voice, and the room was silent, listening to Rodney stammer his way through another attempt to get Carson to reply. It grew less believable each time he tried it, his voice wobbling its way through the message. If he hadn't answered the first time, there was no way he was going to answer now.

If David had known where Carson was, if he'd known how to get hold of him, he might have shouted the answer just to make it stop. Just as he had for Jeannie, when he had been afraid that Rodney _wouldn't_, when he had been afraid the other boy would carry out his threats. Some things it was just impossible to watch without trying to stop them.

The city juddered under them for a moment, causing most of those present to stagger, and for a moment David entertained the idea of taking advantage of the moment to throw off his captors and try to take control of the situation. Only for a moment though, for the minute he flexed his arms, thinking he might pull free, his captors redoubled their grip painfully. So much for that plan then.

"What was that?" Kolya's gaze turned to Radek, the wiry boy looking as though he wanted to disappear behind his screen.

"We have had a direct hit," Radek reported shakily. "Shields... shields down to eighty five per cent."

Eighty-five per cent? It sounded a lot, but how long would it last if there were a few more of those?

"Good," Kolya nodded. Rodney flinched as he stepped towards him, but Kolya patted his shoulder, keeping a firm grip on Jeannie with his other arm. "Your message to John worked, it would seem. Very good."

_John! _If the city was suffering then it could only be because John was no longer piloting. And soon John would arrive, with Ronon and Teyla, just as Elizabeth had, hurrying down to try and find out why things weren't working as they should. And, as with Elizabeth, he would stand no chance. And, then what? Treat him as they were Rodney? Kill them all? _Then what?_

The city rocked again. Another direct hit.

"Shields at seventy nine per cent," Radek offered quietly.

"Why are you doing this?" Elizabeth asked suddenly -- perhaps to try to negotiate, perhaps only to distract Kolya's attention from falling on Rodney again. "The Wraith are friends to nobody. Whatever insult you believe we've dealt you to deserve this.. it doesn't help you if they win."

"Ah, but it does." Kolya didn't move from Rodney's side but remained there, smiling at Elizabeth for a moment before shooting a question at him. "How many people on your planet?"

"Just under six point eight billion." David would have had to estimate the answer, but Rodney gave it instantly, almost automatically. "But I don't see.."

Kolya cut him off before he could finish. "How long do you think the Wraith could survive on that, feed and live off your planet alone, without ever needing to come and raid mine? Or anyone else's for that matter."

Sacrifice one planet to save the many. It made sense, as long as it wasn't your _own_ planet you were thinking about losing.

"But that's stupid." David didn't realize until Kolya turned to look at him that he'd said it out loud. "I.. I mean, I don't know much about these Wraith, but surely if you're giving them a, a food supply," and it felt wrong, horribly wrong, to describe Earth's population that way, "they're just going to get more time to breed? You're just going to get them back, stronger and hungrier."

"That's true," Kolya agreed mildly, seeming to take this crack in his plan very well. "But what we'll have in the meantime is time. Years -- maybe decades." His gaze wandered over them again, almost possessively. "Years, in which the Genii will have a whole new group of scientists and military-trained minds working to find a way to fight them off when they return. And believe me, you _will_ find one."

And that explained what he was intending to do once they were all there. Capture, and then transportation away somehow -- perhaps through the stargate. David found himself wondering if the Geneva Convention applied on other planets. From the way they were already being treated, it was probably a no.

"We've already _got _one," Rodney said bitterly. "If you'd just let us go, so we can use it.."

"So that they can be chased from your planet, and return to ours, twice as angry and hungry?" Kolya inquired. "No. That's not going to happen. We have more than paid our share in people to them over the years."

"You're not _listening!_" Rodney raised his voice, frustration building. "This would help _everyone!_ You're not... we're not just going to leave our planet here to die, and come and work for you. No."

It was a stupid thing to say, a stupid time to choose defiance, and David shut his eyes again, willing himself not to hear Rodney's cry of strangled pain as Kolya gestured again.

"You will," he promised. "If you behave yourselves, and work well, we will even treat you well. If not, then.. not so well. But you _will_ find a way."

The city rocked again, and Radek spoke up desperately. "If we do not do something soon, then we will not be helping because we will be being _dead!_ Shields at seventy two per cent."

David had staggered again, with the rest, and he thought that it was imagination for a moment that the hands on his arms seemed to have loosened their grip. Loosened -- and released -- the two boys holding him collapsed quietly without a fuss, and there was no time to think about it, no time to wonder why. He threw himself forward at Kolya, hoping he was too focused on Rodney still. All he needed was a fighting chance. Just long enough to overpower him, get the gun away. They could _stop_ this.

He didn't expect Kolya to be able to move so quickly.

It was as though he didn't even need to think about it, no time needed to take aim before he fired. He just twisted, and David felt the pain tear through his left leg at the shot, stumbling for a moment before he went down.

The rest of the room was still reacting, guns appearing in other hands now as the group who followed Kolya looked around. Clutching his leg, David still managed to glance around, counting six of them down. Whoever was shooting had had time to make a good attempt at it, and one of the girls with Kolya crouched over one of the bodies cautiously.

"He's just stunned, sir," she called back, "he's not shooting to kill."

"That's nice," Kolya observed, and it was David's turn to discover what it was like to get up close and personal with a gun as the other boy pointed it directly at his head. "If he does not come out by the count of three then he will find that _I_ am. One.."

* * *

"Atlantis, come in! Come _in_, Atlantis!" One minute it had been looking as though the kids were actually somehow, amazingly, doing all right for themselves, and the next.. they were no threat at all. The drones had stopped, the city had taken on a wobbly sort of path through the Wraith, and the kids had stopped responding. According to Jackson, Control had been having something approaching a reasonable conversation with young Elizabeth and now.. now there was nothing.

Kids suddenly realizing they were in more of a mess that they had bargained for and needing all hands on deck? Or something else? It was hard to tell, but the sudden change in their ability to fight didn't look good. The Wraith had been scuttering in alarm, struggling to find a way to counter the sudden attack of the drones. Now it was easier, and the ships were aiming shot after shot at the city, parts of the fleet already drifting off to see to Earth's fleet. Earth's fleet which stood no chance at _all_ against a force this size.

And still, Atlantis wasn't responding.

Another shot glanced off, lighting up the sky for a moment as the shields absorbed it, beautiful orange and yellow light. How long could their shields stand against that? It wouldn't be forever. Not if they didn't at least start fighting back again.

O'Neill gritted his teeth and set a course between the Wraith ships and Atlantis. Maybe he could at least distract the Wraith for long enough for the kids to pull themselves back together.

* * *

_Just keep us from crashing into anything,_ John had said, but somehow he'd neglected to mention just how hard that was. He'd had time to learn -- to take off at his own pace, even if he had to be ready to go into hyperspace a few minutes later. Sitting down and taking down in the middle of a battle didn't really give you that learning time.

There were too many parts to pay attention to, and it seemed almost impossible to know what was happening with them all at once. If he was controlling the city, he was missing that his drones were being taken down. If he was controlling the drones then the Wraith ships were letting off another shot at his shields. There was too much to watch, too much to control. His brain protested that it was impossible, even though he knew that the city was trying its best, just as he was trying his best.

But if his best wasn't good enough.. he felt the city rock again as they were hit, as he reacted too slowly to counter an attack, and groaned in frustration. John's promise that he wouldn't be long seemed more and more unlikely to be true, and Rodney's increasingly desperate pleas for him to reply were difficult to close his ears to, whatever John had said. Even if it was a trap.

What was going _on _down there? If it was a trap, did that mean he was the only one not in it?

It was just one more distraction in a job that already had too many. Another drone was hit and exploded, and Carson took a breath, trying to concentrate as he launched another.

His best was just going to have to _be_ good enough. Because there was no one else.

* * *

"...two..."

"..shields at sixty seven per cent.." Radek's tone indicated that he had a job to do, and it was easier to just keep doing that than raise his eyes from the screen again.

"...three."

And as David closed his eyes and turned his face away from the gun, John put on his best smile and stepped out. "Hi."

"John Sheppard," Kolya greeted, sounding less than surprised. "I wondered whether you were planning to turn up before or after I started killing people to get you here."

"You're not playing fair, Kolya. I only sent yours for a little nap." He was holding his gun still, grasping it casually, half-wondering if he had any chance at all of getting a shot off at Kolya before he could react. He'd only need that one shot, and it might make the others fall apart enough to give them a chance. "You know how cranky people need their naps."

No chance. Kolya just stared at him steadily, unamused. "Put the gun down or I shoot him."

"Seems to me that's kinda the definition of cranky right there." He was buying time and he knew it. But he only needed a moment -- even if it was created by the city being hit again -- just that moment to shoot him.

He didn't get it. Carefully and deliberately, Kolya set the barrel of his pistol against David's forehead, keeping his eyes on John. David was.. John didn't remember ever seeing him like that before, pale and pleading and frightened. David had always ben the controlled one, the one who didn't make mistakes, didn't take risks. His leg was seeping blood, a pool of it starting to form on the floor, and that had been a mistake. He'd meant to give David an opportunity to fight them off, thought he had more chance than Elizabeth or Radek. He hadn't meant to just make him a target.

"Last chance," Kolya warned, and John thought he could see his fingers already moving, ready.

He dropped the gun.

"Wise choice," Kolya approved, and almost immediately he was seized, his arms pulled painfully behind his back. "Now we only need the last three of your friends and we can go."

"Right," John said, hoping Teyla and Ronon had the sense to wait for their perfect moment. Sometime when no one had a gun at their forehead might be a good choice. "Well, about that. You might not have as much time as you think for hanging around the place."

"Really, now?" Kolya asked mildly. He lowered the gun, and John saw David take a shuddering breath of relief at the removal of the immediate threat. "And why it that?"

Think of a lie, think of a _good_ lie, because time gave them a chance to get out of this, and otherwise he was going to start thinking of going looking for the others. "I came down here thinking I'd only be away for a few minutes," he said quickly, thinking on the fly. "So there's ah, uh.." What had Rodney said? "..Dead Man's Circuit."

"A switch," Rodney corrected, seemingly unable to help it. "Dead Man's _Switch._" He paused, face falling as he realized what that meant. "...oh."

"Right, yes, one of those," John said gratefully, seizing on it. "After a certain amount of time, if_ I'm _not flying it, it kinda takes control of itself. Kinda like an autopilot?"

"Well, thank you for letting we know we'll need to blow the ship up when we leave in that case, but I'm not seeing the relevance," Kolya said impatiently. "Now, your three companions.."

"Nononono," Rodney interrupted him, staring at John, and hey, maybe the Ancients really_ did_ have something like an autopilot because Rodney looked genuinely scared. "John, the Dead Man's Switch -- what did you set it to do?"

"If no one's flying it? It starts sending off as many drones as it can to draw the fleet in around it," John said convincingly. "And then- then uh, it crashes into the nearest big ship." He looked around at the assembled faces, and shrugged. "I kinda figured that if we weren't there and flying, we'd probably died of something or been evacuated anyway."

There was an explosion outside, followed by another, and another. John blessed Carson's timing.

"That sounds like the drones going now."

Kolya stared at him for a moment, looking disbelieving, and then turned away, marching towards the computers. Radek stepped back nervously, letting him have access to the screens.

"This is the monitor screen, where you can see what is around us," he offered. "Those are the drones, and... they are drawing back around us again now."

"As they're meant to," John agreed, keeping his tone cheerful. "Should take a good few of them out in the explosion when we crash this way."

He wished he didn't have to lie to them too, because Radek paled, suddenly becoming very interested in his screens again. "These are the shields -- they are now standing at 56%," he added, slightly pained. "This is the power level.."

"Yes, yes," Kolya said impatiently, waving a hand at him and striding away. "All very interesting, I'm sure. So, once there are enough ships around us, the city will engineer a crash?"

John nodded, raising his chin to meet the other boy's gaze. "Once it's ready."

Kolya studied him calculatingly, seeming to try and read intent in his eyes. "I don't believe you."

"You know, if you're wrong, you'll die here too," John pointed out, keeping his voice steady. "You and everyone else."

That drew a laugh from the other boy, and he reached to pat John's shoulder, almost a caress for a moment. "Would you die for your planet, John Sheppard?" he asked, his voice suddenly low, almost pleasant.

Would he? Hadn't he always known that this was what it might come down to? You didn't fly a cityship into a fleet of enemy ships if you didn't know you might not come back. John stared back, refusing to drop his gaze, and nodded.

Kolya smiled, pleased by the answer. "Then why should you imagine we should do anything less for our own?"

* * *

There was someone shooting at them _there,_ and he could send a drone over _there _and just focus on that, keep focusing on that. Don't wonder why John hasn't come back yet, don't wonder why Rodney stopped trying to call you, don't wonder what's _happening_ down there, and maybe he could do this after all.

In the end, it was doable, only if Carson stopped thinking of what he was doing as trying to fly several things at once. It was the same part of his brain that understood how to do a surgery those times he had been allowed and supervised, focusing intently on the most delicate of tasks while still being able to register the vital signs which told him that his patient was healthy and not about to die. Focus on one thing, on whichever drone he needed to control right now, but stay aware of everything else, stay alert and ready to dodge the whole cityship when needed to or it wouldn't be just one patient who died.

If they weren't all already dead.

That thought stole his concentration for a second, and the ship jolted as it was hit once more. It was growing harder _to_ dodge, and Carson swallowed hard as his view filled with Wraith ships, all of them seemingly intent on taking Atlantis out.

What if none of them ever came back?

* * *

"Stand up properly!"

"I _would_ if the ground stopped moving!" Rodney retorted, and drew his breath in sharply as one of the boys holding him pulled sharply on his arm to pull him back upright. The knife-wounds inflicted earlier seemed to scream in pain at the treatment, and it was all he could do to not scream along with them. "I'm up, I'm up!"

"Shields at 43%," Radek called, in what was becoming almost a routine report every time they were hit.

"Be quiet!" Kolya turned to snap at him, and Rodney found himself guiltily grateful for it. Hearing the countdown of the shields was like hearing the countdown up to when you were going to die.

Radek raised his head though, glaring back at Kolya. "Being quiet will not make it not _true!"_ he snapped. "We are losing an average of seven per cent every five _minutes,_ and the power levels are dipping as they try to keep them going and-" He looked again at the screen, seeming to see something he had not before, and said something frightened and angry in his own language.

"What?" Kolya had seemed about to turn on him, but he hesitated at that, taken aback.

"The engines are growing too hot!" Greatly daring, or perhaps just beyond caring, Radek tried to pull his arms free to reach the keyboard. It was a failed attempt -- they were wrenched back cruelly in response -- but he responded even to that by turning to yell at those holding him.

"Don't you understand, you-" Again, his english failed him and he spat a curse at them which Rodney had heard more than once before. "We have taken _damage_ in that hit! If I do not do anything, we have maybe seven minutes before we all explode!"

Before they all exploded. Rodney felt a chill pass through him at that phrase. He'd already died in flames once.

It took a second, and then Kolya nodded, a signal to those holding Radek. "Let him go."

"_Thank_ you," Radek almost threw himself at the keyboard, his face growing increasingly troubled as he tapped his way through the screens. A moment later the alarms started, a shrill siren warning that something was going desperately wrong. He swore again, redoubling his efforts frantically.

"Can you fix it?" Kolya inquired, watching.

"If I can reroute -- but there is no time!" Radek didn't look up, sounding panicked. "I need to reroute the power around the fault that causes the heating and-"

"I didn't ask that!" Kolya interrupted. "Yes or no would be sufficient." He seemed to consider a moment. "Gather those we have, and we evacuate. The other three can die here."

"You do not _understand!_" Radek shouted, raising his voice now. "The gate will not _work!_ The power is not flowing correctly -- it is all _wrong_!" He stopped, seeming to realize he'd just screamed at someone highly dangerous who was carrying a weapon, and took a breath. "We can reroute in time if I have Sam and Rodney," he said more calmly, "maybe. But it will not buy us long!"

"Enough to get us out through the stargate?" Kolya asked, and Radek nodded wearily. Rodney felt suddenly torn. He didn't want to die here in an explosion... but he didn't want the others here to be left to die either.

"Do it." Kolya gestured with his gun, and Rodney found himself almost dragged, with Sam, to the machines.

She looked to be in pretty bad shape. He could almost bet that losing that much blood wasn't a good thing.

He stared at the graphs Radek was gesturing to and found himself puzzled. The engines were heating certainly, but they weren't _that_ much more than they should be. And the alarm.. he glanced at a screen and blinked in confusion at the flashing icon which signified manual activation.

"...which is flowing through the damaged circuits and causing unwanted amounts of heat," Radek was talking frantically, gesturing as Rodney exchanged baffled looks with Sam. "But.. but.. if we reroute the flow of power to _here.._"

He gestured -- a little too high it seemed -- and hastily moved to what he had been intending to indicated. But Rodney found himself raising his head a little, just to glance back at that first monitor instead.

The quantum mirror.

Still growing, still holding steady, and just finally big enough to encapsulate the outside edges of the Wraith fleet as they turned to mount a renewed attack of Atlantis.

He sneaked another look at Sam, and saw an expression of dawning understanding pass across her white face as she too glanced up for a moment.

It would take almost all the power they had left, maybe leaving just enough to run the life support systems for a time. Go through, and there was likely to be no coming back, especially not once Kolya realized what they had done.

But stay here, and they would be dead, or at the very least abducted to work for Kolya's people. Go through, and they could be heroes. Dead heroes, but maybe you only got one chance to save the world.

"...and that should give us enough time to be passing through and getting away. Do you understand?" Radek said, and the three of them looked at each other, understanding what it would mean before they nodded.

* * *

"Atlantis, haven't you ever heard of a happy medium?" O'Neill demanded, having long since given up expecting a response. He'd expected to buy them a few minutes to recover, not for them to come back fighting so hard that the _entire_ fleet decided to pack itself tightly around them in an attempt to kill them off. They were so tightly packed that Earth's ships didn't even have a chance to try and make it in, and were reduced to hovering around the outside, trying to take down those on the outskirts.

Which left at the center... just him and Atlantis. Great.

"This is a damned suicide mission," he muttered, mostly to himself by now. "Not that I haven't done a few of those before but.. I wasn't fifteen at the time."

It wasn't even as though there were room to manuevere here any more, and he found himself staying close to Atlantis' bulk, all too aware that while the city-ship likely had shields that could withstand a few more hits, his little X-302 probably could not.

"I really hope you kids have a plan, because-" he started, and then closed his eyes, his hand going up automatically to shield his face from the sudden blinding flash of light.


	13. Endgame Pt 3

"Atlantis?" O'Neill said as the stars started to clear from his vision, and then changed his mind as he glanced up at the monitor. Wraith ships still surrounded them in a wide unyielding circle, but beyond that now.. there was nothing. No Earth fleet, no one coming to help them out, no one fighting at the edges any more.

Just him and Atlantis left at the centre.

"Control?" he said slowly, staring at that screen, hoping for some strange malfunction that would suddenly right itself. "Hey, you guys haven't gone and abandoned us up here, have you?"

There was silence. Worse than that, at the edges of the Wraith fleet, the ships seemed to realize that there was nothing to hold them there any longer. There was no one left to chase them down, other than Atlantis and one little X-302, and there was no way they could chase all of them. Slowly, they started to peel off, one by one heading down towards Earth. Down towards a planet unprepared for them, of people they were meant to be protecting.. and hadn't.

"Shit!" No amount of in-air aerobics was going to prove enough of a threat to pull them back up again, not unless Earth's ships magically reappeared from wherever they'd vanished to. Or from whatever that white light had done to them.

"Control? If this is some kinda secret plan you were all planning to pull out to surprise us with at the last minute, I'd really suggest activating it now. Or thirty seconds ago. Or-"

No response, not even an alarm call, and he stopped, staring again at the radio. He reached out, tapped it, as though that might produce something more than static.

After a few seconds, he said very quietly, testing, "Daniel?"

* * *

If the alarms before had been loud, these ones were deafening. A cacophony of shrill sirens, whooping alarms, flashing red lights -- it seemed every warning system the city had was simultaneously activated. Even those who had come with Kolya were starting to look scared, and David stopped clutching at his leg just to try and cover his ears, shielding them from the worst of the racket.

All eyes were on Sam, Radek and Rodney, and the three young scientists had backed away from the machines, moving almost as soon as the flash of light had faded. The two boys were supporting Sam together, the three of them clustering together, whatever arguments they might once have had forgotten now. They looked… terrified, but not surprised, not shocked by the blaring noises and warnings. Whatever they had done, David realized, they had done purposefully, not by mistake. From their expressions, they knew what it might now cost them.

For once, Kolya lost his calm air. He released Jeannie as he stalked back to the machines, leaving the girl in the middle of the room. It meant he had a free hand to grab Radek by the shirt, dragging him away from the other two.

"What," he demanded in a low growl, almost lifting the boy's feet from the floor, "did you do?"

Radek swallowed hard, his eyes following Kolya's gun as though hypnotised. "We uh.. we inverted the reality we were in to throw the ship through several dimensions-"

Kolya hit him with the barrel of the gun. Not hard enough to knock him out, but hard enough to daze, hard enough to send his glasses flying off his face, cracking as they hit the floor. He looked horribly vulnerable without them, blinking rapidly as though this would help him see in a suddenly blurry world. "That is _not_ an explanation."

"Let him alone, Kolya," John said quietly. "That's just how they always talk."

"Is the gate working?" Kolya shook Radek hard, and Radek, stunned and terrified, didn't seem able to find the answer. "Is it?"

He lifted the gun again, threateningly, as though to hit him again, and it was Rodney who stepped forward to try and pull Radek away. "Of course it won't work!" he snapped, stepping between his friend and the gun. "Or, if it does, it won't be going to the same places! Don't you understand? We're not _there_ any more! He just told you!"

It was a brave move, if not a wise one. It made it too, too easy to turn the gun on him. He stopped, and swallowed, suddenly finding himself staring down the barrel. "Not where?" Kolya asked coldly, not releasing Radek.

"Not- not..." Amazing how having a gun pointed at you could make you forget what you meant to say. "Not _anywhere._ We're in a whole other _universe_! There's nowhere left here for the gates to go."

Understandable, perhaps, why that statement should make Kolya hesitate, staring at Rodney for a moment. "Take us back."

"Can't." Rodney shook his head, starting to tremble, realizing perhaps that shifting Kolya's attention to him might not have been the best move. "Not enough power. Not if you want to come out with life support functions at the other end. That's.. that's why the alarms are going off."

Kolya lifted the gun's barrel as though to strike him this time, then seemed to think again as Rodney flinched back. "How long do we have?"

"As we're operating now? Maybe... maybe ten hours," Rodney managed nervously. "If we cut back to vital support functions, just in here... maybe a couple of days."

"And you say there's nowhere to go?" Kolya asked slowly, holding his gaze like a predator staring down a rabbit.

"The odds of- of this universe having life at _all _are.. are astronomical," Rodney agreed unhappily. "Even if it existed, it's likely it would be nowhere near advanced enough to build the stargates."

"So, tell me," Kolya asked slowly, and grimly, taking a step towards him, "tell me why I shouldn't just spend our last two days making your lives here as miserable as possible?"

* * *

There was no one left. No one to stop the Wraith swooping down and taking the earth, no one to fight them other than O'Neill. Even Atlantis seemed to have stopped fighting, the drones suddenly at an end. There was nothing to do other than watch as Wraith-ship after Wraith-ship swooped down on a helpless planet.

Nothing but one thing.

He'd fought against the idea of it, fought against even the _concept_ of Earth killing its own people. There had to be another way -- there was always another way. In the end, he'd given in only if he had control of it, certain at least that he could trust himself not to tend towards a twitchy trigger finger where that was concerned. It was the one reason they'd let a General out to fly in combat – that and the fact he was a very experience fighter pilot. They had fitted it, and he had remained convinced that he would never have to use it. It never even got to have a name, just a button that Daniel with his morbid sense of humour had scribbled 'Apocalypse Now' underneath in marker pen.

But if there was no one else left to fight, what other choice was there? Was it better to leave Earth's people to the mercy of the Wraith, to the fighting, and the chaos and the suffering which seemed inevitable, or to kill them quickly and mercifully, at a speed which meant that most of them would never even have a chance to understand what was going on? No time to really be afraid, no time to panic, just a quick death in what otherwise might have been a really good day. Would have been, if it weren't for that whole world-ending thing. There was always the possibility some would live, in bunkers or..caves or …something.

There was no reply from Stargate Control, no reply from Atlantis, and no reply from Daniel. It was no good hoping and praying for someone else to provide a solution to save the day. Sometimes you had to just provide the solution yourself, no matter how unpalatable it might be. End of the world by a merciful hand or an apocalyptic reign of terror and agony that could spread throughout the galaxy. Maybe other people would make other choices, but he was the one here and now and he knew his choice.

O'Neill closed his eyes for a moment, said a last good-bye to his planet and all it held, and then dived down into a steep dive, the X-302 just skimming above the earth's atomosphere before he pressed the button that would loose the little two-seater's load.

The explosion that followed threw the ship backwards, spent it spinning helplessly through space, buffeted by the immense force. Hive ships clustered eagerly around the outer atmosphere, cracked open, bleeding plasma fire, exploding in a series of detonations one after another. Above, had O'Neill been able to look, Atlantis too was flung away, even that huge ship unable to resist, as helpless as a leaf in the wind.

Below them, the earth bloomed into flame; bright, beautiful and terrible, Wraith ships tumbling back towards it as they tried to escape the blaze and failed. No one would survive that -- no one _could_. O'Neill had set fire to the sky itself.

* * *

When a miracle occurred, sometimes it was better not to ask how or why. Atlantis rolled, tumbling and lurching sickeningly, and the people inside couldn't help but be knocked off their feet. It didn't matter which side you were on, or how calm and collected you wanted to be, there was no keeping control when the world abruptly turned upside down. Shouts of alarm and dismay came from teenagers both of Earth and of the Genii as the wall was suddenly the floor, and then the ceiling. John heard a familiar yell, which he was certain came from Rodney, and was privately grateful for it. At least it meant he was still alive.

Meanwhile, he finally had his arms free, and that meant he could start groping through the crush of people, hunting desperately for anything that felt weapon-shaped. Most people seemed too dazed to protest, dizzied by the sudden tumble, and much to John's relief, after a few moments his fingers touched familiar cold metal.

_Now_ they were in business.

He rolled, trying to untangle himself from the crowd, pulling himself out of the heap of stunned people. He wasn't alone -- several others had already managed to regain their feet, some of them members of Kolya's gang. The glances at him were first stunned, and then accusing, certain he must have something to do with this new turn of events. John raised the gun, trying to work out how many of them he could take down before being taken down himself. A few, at least.

The sound of shots startled him, and it startled him more when the guys he'd been certain were about to shoot at him collapsed instead. His first instinct was to dive for the floor again, getting out of the way, and it was some relief to look up and see Teyla and Ronon standing at the doorway, weapons in hand. It seemed that, _finally_, the cavalry had arrived.

"You guys took your time," he complained lightly, cautiously getting back to his feet, senses still on high alert. If he was feeling ready enough to get back up and start fighting, chances were high that so were some of the guys on the other side.

"Waiting for our moment?" Teyla offered him a brief smile, her eyes darting around, seeking out any threatening movement.

"What, five seconds after we'd all been blown up?" But there was no real question that if they had a chance at all it was now, now when everything was in confusion.

It was the battle-room all over again, except that, unlike the battle-room, there was no chance someone would bring an end to it if someone got seriously hurt. There was an art to it, not just to knowing when to shoot, but knowing when not to. You had to know when your people were too close to risk firing, know without looking when someone was aiming at you and to move. You had to know who you could rely on -- and John was startled, at one point, to see one of the Genii kids drop down in front of him and twist around to see David, propping himself up with a gun in his hand.

David just smiled at him; a tired, pained sort of smile, one hand still clamped down on the wound in his leg. "You thought Dad never taught me how to shoot?"

There was no answer to that, or at least none that John could come up with in the time available right now. He had to keep moving instead, brain automatically cataloguing people as he passed them, ticking off where they were, how they were doing. Jeannie was with Rodney; Radek with Sam, looking lost without his glasses as she fought one-armed; David was shooting with more capability than John had supposed him capable of; Elizabeth handling a gun with an awkward sort of determination; Kolya was..

Kolya.

Kolya was in front of him, gun trained on John, even as John's was trained on him. They stared at each other, Kolya smiling an odd twisted sort of little smile as they met each other's eyes.

So easy, just to press down on the trigger, but John hesitated. "You realize, we're just fighting here for the last two days?"

"Yes," Kolya agreed calmly, not dropping his gaze. "Apparently you think it worth fighting for."

Another second, that seemed to stretch over a lifetime. "I don't suppose yours is set to stun?"

The reply was a low chuckle, and John saw the movement as the other boy moved to fire, and tightened his own finger on the trigger, throwing himself sideways.

Fire seemed to spread through his shoulder, and he heard someone -- Rodney? -- shout in alarm. But Kolya was staggering backwards, stumbling, clutching his chest as he fell.

He did not get up again.

* * *

"Why was he just standing around _talking_ at him?" Rodney demanded of the world, fear translating into anger as he pushed his way through to John. With Kolya down, the other Genii seemed frozen, unsure what to do next, but that didn't make him feel better, not when John was just lying there like that. "He could have shot him half a dozen times over in the time he stood there chatting!"

"I didn't see you shooting so many people!" David was only a short distance behind him, moving awkwardly as he tried not to put weight on his injured leg.

"I'm a _scientist!_ I deal with _science!_ There are other people to deal with the shooting part!" There was an awful cold fear in Rodney's chest as he crouched down by John's side, reaching tentatively to turn him over. "C'mon, John, if you're okay I'll work out a way out of here, I swear I will, just--"

"I heard that." Rodney pulled back a little as John shifted, trying to push himself up and then flopping back down with a grunt of pain. "Shit, that hurts."

"Not really surprised, as you managed to get a bullet in your shoulder." David let himself collapse down next to him, looking as relieved as Rodney felt. "Good shooting, kid brother."

"Yeah?" Even for Rodney, not usually known for his perceptiveness where emotions were concerned, it was difficult to miss the note of pleased surprise in John's voice. John had been waiting a good amount of time for that praise. "Well, you know, not fair play really if it's not at least four to one, but.." He pushed himself up again, one-armed this time, and managed to get himself to a sitting position. He reached to touch his shoulder gingerly, managing a shaky grin at Rodney. "Don't think I'm not holding you to finding a way out of here."

"Things people say when they think you're dead don't count!" Rodney said indignantly. No one on their side was dead it seemed, and Teyla and Ronon were rounding up the Genii survivors. It was probably okay to relax and _be_ indignant without worrying you were going to be shot.

"No? But you're gonna anyway," John said matter-of-factly. "How's the arm?"

Rodney flushed guiltily at the mention, looking away. "I didn't -- he _made_ me call you."

"Hey, not blaming you," John said easily. "Besides, I knew it was a trap anyway. You're the worst liar ever. Just, seriously, how's the arm?"

"Oh." And with John, it seemed, forgiveness really was that quick and easy. "Sore. And I don't think that knife was clean, and I'm not at all certain any of us are up to date with our tetanus jabs.."

"Same old Rodney." For some reason that seemed to be a relief to John, and he glanced around before looking, a little awkwardly, back at his brother. "And your leg.."

"Hurts like hell," David admitted. "Not to worry anyone, but we really need a _doctor_ in here."

"Carson," John half-lifted a hand to call him over, then stopped and looked around again, puzzled. "Where _is_ Carson?"

As though at a signal, the door swung open, and Carson stepped in. He was clutching a gun tightly, his face screwed up in worried determination, clearly ready to face down whatever he might find in there. "Right! I.. uh.." He blinked, taking in the scene -- Ronon and Teyla corralling the Genii into one end of the room, everyone else slumped or sat in various positions, mostly bleeding. It took only a step, and then he'd dropped the gun, already rolling up his sleeves. "What'd I miss?"

* * *

He didn't tell them, any of them, how close they'd come to death. Despite the laughter and the joking once everyone realized they'd survived, there was an edge to it all that said they'd known that already. Carson didn't have to spell out how much blood Sam or David had lost, or how easy it would have been for John to have been hit somewhere other than the shoulder, any more than he had to tell Radek that concussion, even minor concussion, was never really a good thing. He knew, and he knew how great the risks were if they couldn't get everyone home and to proper medical facilities before long. Meanwhile, he marshalled Teyla and Elizabeth to help him where they could, and if they needed telling what to do, at least they were uninjured and able to do it. Jeannie he left with Radek, with strict orders to call him over if the boy started to fall asleep, and otherwise he did the best he could, with patients both of Earth and Genii.

No one moved Kolya's body. No one seemed sure what to _do_ with it, and it was ignored, avoided, something that they could leave to acknowledge later when they had made a better attempt at grasping what had occurred. In their own way, the Genii seemed as shocked as the rest, all fight gone out of them now, and it was hard not to wonder if they had known where Kolya was leading them or just followed further than they had meant to go.

Ronon had growled a little over treating them, and he wasn't the only one who had looked askance at the idea, but Carson had ignored it. It wasn't that he didn't share the anger and shock -- it was difficult to see a friend in pain without fighting back fury at the person who had put them in that position. But it was more difficult to see someone in pain and do nothing about it, no matter what they were guilty of themselves. It wasn't in Carson to be able to do it, and so once he was certain that everyone else was safe for now, he turned to see what he could do to help there. If he did it in a stony silence, without any of his usual gentle reassurance for the sick and the hurt, he still did it and that was what mattered.

Not that any of it would matter if they stayed here for long. He'd gathered that much from Rodney, when he'd babbled excuses as to why he and John _couldn't_ just rest as Carson wanted them to. It hadn't left Carson entirely easy -- the pair of them had an inclination towards believing that if there were no pain they were capable of doing whatever they wanted, with no regards to the fact that painkillers were not a magical cure. But if the alternative was that everybody died, there seemed little else to do but keep a stern eye on them, ready to intervene if they did more than, as Rodney had explained, cutting off the life-support systems to the rest of the city.

Apparently, that had bought them two days. No one was talking much about what happened when the two days were up.

"Carson?" The voice interrupting his thoughts was shy, and he turned to look at its originator, his expression turning worried when he saw who it was.

"What is it, Jeannie? Is Radek all right?" He glanced around, looking for Radek, and was relieved to see him sitting behind a computer, broken glasses balanced awkwardly on his nose. At least he hadn't passed out or started throwing up then. Still.. "He shouldn't be working!"

"He said he heard something beep!" Jeannie chased at his heels as he strode back over. "And we knew you'd said that John and Rodney weren't to work, so.."

_"None _of them are healthy enough to work," Carson said exasperated. "Head injuries aren't something to play around with!" And usually Radek was one of the better ones at listening when he told people things like that, which was why Carson hadn't thought to watch to make sure he actually did as he was told. Sometimes people just seemed determined to make themselves worse.

"What do you think you're doing, lad?" he demanded as he reached the computer. "I'm sure I told you to rest."

Radek looked up, sheepish as he peered through the cracked lens. "I am only being up for a little while," he said apologetically. "Just while we were noticing something."

"Noticing what?" He was too pale still, and Carson frowned at him anxiously. "Does your head ache?"

"A little?" Which usually meant a lot. Carson touched his hand, worried by the cool clamminess of the skin.

"But the computers," Jeannie insisted, before he could hurry Radek away. "You're not listening about the computers. Look," she gestured at the screen, where an alert blinked urgently. "Doesn't that mean someone has landed?"

* * *

He'd set fire to the planet. It felt as though everything after that should be unimportant, as though nothing should matter, but there was a basic survival sense that made it hard to give up on living even when everything else was gone. Just allowing himself to drift through space until everything else stopped didn't feel as though it was an option, which meant O'Neill had to find somewhere to go.

Earth obviously wasn't an option, and there was no way he had fuel enough to make it to anywhere else. That left one obvious choice, but considering how they'd stopped responding, who knew what was going on there?

Well, it wasn't as though he had anywhere _better_ to go.

He guided the little ship deftly into the landing bay, allowing himself a brief moment to marvel at its resilience. A fire large enough to take out most of Earth, and the X-302 had survived it -- scorched, battered, but still functional, and with its passenger intact.

It was a shame that the same couldn't be said about the earth itself.

He took a moment to take stock of things after landing, leaning back in his seat and trying to remember to breathe. A bit banged-up, much like the ship, cuts, bruises, and the glowing warmth from his skin said that he too had taken a scorching from the heat, but in surprisingly good condition really.

Actually, considering what he'd done, just being _alive_ probably counted as surprisingly good condition.

"Atlantis," he said aloud, voice sounding rougher than it usually did. "I don't care what your status is anymore, but I'm gonna come up, okay? And if you don't like that... well, live with it."

He'd grown so accustomed to getting silence as a response that it was a surprise to get anything else. "Sir!" Elizabeth? So, Elizabeth Weir was still alive? He'd wondered, after everything had gone quiet there. "We didn't realize you'd come with us! We had to turn the life support off -- just stay there, sir. We'll come and get you."

O'Neill raised his eyebrows, but for once arguing was beyond him. "Copy that," he agreed. "And I hope you've got a damn good explanation for why you stopped answering, Atlantis, because right now, only something on the level of "we died and got resurrected as zombies" is gonna make the grade."

* * *

It was weird how fast you could go from being "guys who were trying to save the world" to "kids who'd stolen a city, ignored orders and done a whole lot of stuff they really oughtn't". John squirmed, abruptly reminded that he was just fifteen years old. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Elizabeth had gone red, Rodney looked as though he were only just biting back the urge to argue, Carson was shifting from foot to foot, and David, who had been included in the group of 'ringleaders' on account of his age, was looking very uncomfortable.

The consolation was that General O'Neill seemed just as thrown by the answers to his questions as they were discomforted by the questions.

"So, you didn't just decide to go fight with the Wraith, you decided to have a whole little war with the Genii while you were up here?" he asked disbelievingly. "Were the Wraith not gonna be enough for you or something?"

"It wasn't exactly intentional, sir," John admitted. "We think they were hiding in the tunnels when we evacuated everyone." They hadn't come back through the gate anyway -- Rodney had determined that much by checking where it had been last activated.

"You didn't check?"

"No, sir. We kinda assumed that a message that we were heading into a situation where everyone left in the city might die might be enough to get most people to leave," John said, fighting the flash of irritation. He could see Elizabeth glare at him, a sign that by now he really should have learned about Not Answering Back.

But where Woolsey would have given him a lecture on respect, O'Neill just gave him a hard look for a moment. "And you say that thing I just set fire to wasn't Earth? Because I gotta tell you, it looked a lot like it from where I was sitting."

"It was and it wasn't," Rodney jumped in eagerly. "The whole point is that it was a _parallel_ Earth -- exactly like it, but not in our universe. We figured that any amount of chasing the Wraith away from Earth would only make them come back looking, and we couldn't evacuate everyone from the planet, so.." he shrugged, "we gave them a different planet."

O'Neill stared at him for a moment. "And I take it you young geniuses have a plan for getting back then, do you?"

"Well.." Rodney sagged a little at that question, looking down.

"We're working on it, sir," John jumped in hastily. "Just working out the fine details." Like how to actually make it possible at all.

It didn't seem to work. O'Neill just kept looking at them steadily, waiting for a better explanation.

"Uh," Rodney swallowed. "We thought we'd have a bit more power now."

It didn't seem to surprise O'Neill, but then, having been given a spacesuit in order to get to the one room which still had life support, it probably was a bit less than surprising. "How much you got left?"

"Not enough to get us home," Rodney admitted unhappily. "Maybe uh -- better make it one and a half days' worth if we stay here."

"And how much would it take to get Atlantis back home?" O'Neill asked. "You can't just.. make it stretch?"

"Well, if you don't want to do anything like breathing when we get there, sure!" Rodney said sharply. "It's not like taking a battery out and putting it back in again to get an extra five minutes out of it. We might get there,_ maybe,_ but we wouldn't have life support when we got there. But hey, I suppose at least they'd have our bodies in the right universe for the funeral."

"How about something smaller?" John suggested patiently, well-used to these angry little explosions. "A puddle-jumper maybe?" It would hurt his heart to leave the giant friendly presence of the city behind, but it was better than everyone staying here to die.

"It doesn't work like that," Rodney said, sounding frustrated. "Look, the centre of the quantum mirror is here, okay? In this room. Do you _see _a puddle-jumper in here? Do you even see any way to _get _a puddlejumper in here? So we'd have to transport a puddlejumper and just.. a random chunk of the city, just to get the right radius."

"Okay, so that's a bad plan," O'Neill surrendered, but didn't seem ready to give up just yet. "What if we didn't need life-support?"

John and Rodney looked at each other. "Well, we've got spacesuits," John said slowly. "Only about a dozen of them though."

"That would be enough to get _us_ back," Rodney added, sounding hopeful for the first time.

"Don't even think about it," Carson caught that, and the implications of it. "We are not just leaving the Genii to die."

"They were ready to kill _us!_" Rodney protested. "They nearly did!"

"But we're not them," Carson lifted his chin stubbornly. "I'm not being part of any plan where we leave people to die."

"Carson's right," Elizabeth put her vote in quietly. "We can't just do that."

O'Neill had been studying them silently, an odd expression on his face as he observed the exchange. "Well, I'm glad to see you've managed to retain _some _morals at least," he said abruptly. "But I'm not sure where you got into spacesuits. The city still has ships, right? You didn't manage to fly them all off and evacuate everyone in them?"

"Puddlejumpers," John agreed, using the pet name they'd become accustomed to for the little ships. "And," he added, voice rising a little in excitement as he understood what the man was getting at, "_they_ have life support systems, all right."

"Would it work?" O'Neill asked, and suddenly they were all looking at Rodney, hopeful and excited, because that sounded as though it actually might.

"Maybe," Rodney allowed grudgingly, "I mean, we're going to be pushed right to the limits of what power we have and there's every chance that it'll give in part way through, and if we end up stuck between universes, and-"

"That means "yes"," John informed the general cheerfully, and ignored Rodney's splutters of protest. They were going to _live._

* * *

"You can't," Carson said flatly, staring at John in frank disbelief that it even _sounded_ like a good idea to him. "I don't know if you noticed but you've got a bloody great _ hole_ in your _shoulder_. That does tend to limit your ability to do certain things."

"I feel fine now," John objected, already climbing back into a spacesuit. That spoke volumes about just how well Carson's persuasion was going. "No problem."

"You feel fine now, because you are on _drugs_, John," Carson snapped. It was rare that he lifted his voice, but he was shouting now, unable to get his point across any other way. "If painkillers keep convincing you to do anything you want, I swear, next time I won't give them to you! You're not in a state to -- to fly a puddlejumper, let alone a city!"

"Someone's gotta get us down," John said reasonably. "You and I are the only ones able to fly it, and I bet you don't want to. Especially not when it's more going to be gliding than flying."

"More like falling, from what Rodney said," Carson said glumly. The mere thought of it made his stomach turn over, but that didn't mean he could let the subject drop. "There's the general."

"It's not his city," John said, his first reaction possessiveness. "And didn't you say he had pretty bad burns?"

"He set light to Earth's atmophere. He's probably lucky he wasn't barbecued completely," Carson admitted. That had been a surprise too - he'd thought that adults, proper adults, would have been more sensible about accepting medical treatment, but O'Neill was as stubborn as John ever had been. "I don't actually know how he's still managing to act normally. He _ought_ to be unconscious."

"Right," John agreed. "And you _hate_ flying. I don't. So, you just go sit in the puddlejumper while Rodney does his thing, and I'll get us down."

It was tempting, it was the easy thing to do, and he couldn't do it. "John," he said quietly. "You know your flying, but I know your body. Trust me when I tell you you're not well enough for this."

"But we still have to get down, so it doesn't really matter," John said, and sighed, looking back at Carson, spacesuit helmet in his arms. "Look, if you're so worried, why don't you come with me?"

"To watch?" Carson's insides leaped uncomfortably again at the thought.

"Sure!" John agreed. "Just grab one of the other spacesuits." He grinned. "Besides, it means you'll be able to answer for me when Rodney's sending panicked messages through about how I'm doing it wrong."

* * *

"Everyone ready?" Rodney asked nervously, before the city started to shift again. Once it was moving, he knew, he would have only seconds to re-activate the turning of the mirror. The fraction of a ZPM they could have left could be used so, so quickly.

Nods came from most of those present. The Genii, still guarded by Ronon and Teyla, were silent, huddling together. Rodney spared a moment to worry that they might try something when the mirror went into effect, then changed his mind. Ronon alone was likely enough to stop an army of them. Ronon alone practically _was_ an army.

"So, uh," Rodney said, "I just want you to know that if this doesn't work, uh, it -- it was really awesome knowing you guys. I mean, if we had to go save the world -- I mean, most of it was me, obviously, but --"

"Rodney?" John's voice crackled over the radio.

"Yeah?" he answered, clutching tightly at his laptop, ready for John's own goodbye. Probably, it would be filled with appreciation for everything he'd managed to achieve and what good friends they had been and...

"Get ready to go."

"I was just uh -- saying, if it didn't work --"

"It's going to work." No goodbye, just John's usual cheerful confidence. "Get ready to go."

"Right." It was probably a lot easier to be confident if you didn't understand the complexities of what was required. "Ready."

Slowly, they felt Atlantis begin to move, smooth steady motion, slowly building. Rodney swallowed hard, quickly typing the last few instructions required to take them back through the mirror. He hesitated, finger balanced on the _Enter _button for the last time. "Right," he said again. "Goodb-"

And the world vanished once more in a blinding flash of light.

* * *

"And out we come," John said triumphantly, turning Atlantis towards the earth. "And now to fly -- uh- plummet down."

It really was more of a fall than a flight, and Carson had to fight the urge to cover his eyes as the speed started to build and the G-forces pressed them down hard against chairs and floor. The idea that they had survived the Wraith, the Genii, and return from an alternate universe only to die in the crash landing on the earth briefly crossed his mind and he flinched at the idea. "Uh, John," he said nervously over the radio com in his suit. "You don't think this is a little fast? John?"

There was no reply, and he glanced quickly at his friend, only to stagger to his feet in alarm, panting with effort. He felt like he was made of lead. John was slumped in the chair, his face pale, eyes closed.

"John?" Carson was certain he knew what was wrong almost immediately. Painkillers could only do so much, and protecting him when facing these kind of G-forces with a fresh bullet-wound in his shoulder was simply too much to ask of them. There was no way it was possible without passing out.

It would need seeing to, the medical part of his brain noted clinically, and the rest of him knew that there was no way to do that without getting them to Earth safely. With only fractions of a second to make his decision he heaved John out of the chair, taking his place quickly by virtue of falling into place

The earth was speeding towards them at a sickening rate, and Carson was half-aware of Rodney's voice screaming over the radio, demanding to know what was going on, what were they _doing? _There was land, there were buildings, there were ships speeding after them, sending alarmed messages, and, they were going to _die._ The world looked big and hard, a really awful way to die, and what about all the people underneath? How many people could be crushed by a city falling on them?

Carson fought it, turning the ship desperately, aiming for the ocean. If they couldn't make it, they could at least avoid taking anyone else with them, and _there _was water, _there_ was clear space, and Carson put in one last-gasp effort pulling, _pleading_ with Atlantis to slow, trying to take as much force out of the landing as he could.

The waters rose like a tidal wave as they landed, splashing up in all directions. John was thrown like a rag-doll to the other side of the room, and Carson himself was flung out of the chair, hitting the wall with a thud that left him unsure for a minute whether he was dead or alive.

There was a moment of complete stillness, a moment where Carson lay too stunned to know where he was, whether he had succeeded, or if anyone was alive.

The radio crackled, Rodney's indignant voice filling the room. "What the _hell_ was that? I said, go for as slow as you can make it! Have you people never heard of whiplash?"

An incoherent groan came from the other side of the room, before John reached up, slowly tugging off his helmet. "We're fine, Rodney," he managed. "Thank you for asking."

And Carson felt himself start to laugh, and wasn't sure if he would ever be able to stop again.

* * *

"Atlantis, come in. This is Stargate Control. Are you receiving us?"

Jack stared at the intercom for a second, and then reached to take the radio before Elizabeth could pick it up. "Control, this is Atlantis, receiving you loud and clear. Are you folks missing a buttload of Wraith-ships by any chance? Say, most of a fleet?"

There was stunned silence on the other end, before the reply came -- Jackson's voice this time, stunned and incredulous and hoping beyond hope. "Jack, is that _you_? Where the hell did you go?"

"I was uh -- over-seeing an apocalypse," O'Neill replied slowly knowing Daniel would know exactly what that meant. "There's a hell of a lot you're going to want me to explain -- all alternate universes, and earths that weren't." He paused, taking a look at the kids around him -- shocked and injured mostly, sure, but with more of them alive and okay than they had any right to expect. "But, for now, I think we'll be coming home."


	14. Epilogue

"I'm being reassigned?" Woolsey stared at O'Neill, disbelieving hope in his voice.

"Well, you kept asking," O'Neill said reasonably. "And applying, and applying. Actually, you've got a whole filing cabinet of your applications somewhere -- aren't you gonna miss having the form-filling as a hobby?"

On any other day, Woolsey might have twitched in annoyance, but this news was too good to allow anything to spoil it. "But I'm being assigned to somewhere that isn't Atlantis?"

"Well, it's not like we need Atlantis any more. Or like it's a possibility any more, actually, now they crash-landed it onto the ocean," O'Neill commented. He flicked an envelope across the desk. "Here."

Eagerly, Woolsey opened it, and read it. Then, he reread it. It was a full two minutes before he seemed to find words. "This is for M7G-677."

"That's right," O'Neill nodded cheerfully. "Apparently we need a representative up there -- you know the kinda thing, set up trading agreements, make sure everyone likes each other."

Woolsey just kept staring at the page, as though looking might change the words on it. "Isn't that the planet where everyone's under twenty-four?"

"Is it?" O'Neill's forehead wrinkled for a moment, as though in honest puzzlement. "Well, well. Guess they must have thought you had the experience for it."

"But-" Woolsey swallowed, searching again for a response. "I never _applied_ for this," he blurted finally, words coming in a wail, as though that made one iota of difference.

"Really?" O'Neill scratched his head. "Guess they must have head-hunted you." He smiled at the other man calmly. "Guess you must just have been that good."

* * *

"Anyone want a skateboard?" John held it up hopefully. "It doesn't fit in my case."

"As I remember, it didn't seem to fit in your case on the way _her_e either," Carson commented, glancing up. "Never stopped you then."

It had taken some weeks for them to be allowed back onto Atlantis to gather their possessions -- enough time for them to heal up, and be allowed to escape from the gazes of proud and suddenly over-protective parents. Now it was a case of re-discovering where items had fallen during a bumpy crash landing, and packing them up to go home.

At least, home as far as any place they hadn't seen for eight years could be counted as home at all.

"Yeah, well," John sighed, setting the skateboard back down. "I can't see my father being too impressed if I bring a skateboard back with me. I'll be lucky enough to sneak by the comic-books."

Carson softened at his tone, setting a pile of clothing down on his bed. "You two not getting on?" he asked in a low voice.

"It's not -" John shrugged awkwardly, waving a hand. "I know he's proud of me and all, but he wants me to go to Harvard. I mean, do I look like a Harvard kid to you?"

"Not at all," Elizabeth chipped in, joining the conversation without waiting for invitation. "Your shirt's all wrinkled, and your hair's a mess."

John made a face at her, making a cursory attempt to drag his fingers through his hair.

"I thought David was going to Harvard," Rodney said with interest, moving to finger through John's books. "These are mine. Have you been folding the corners over? I hate it when you do that."

"Must've been Ronon," John lied cheerfully without hesitation, knowing it would go no further than that. "And David is. And he likes it there, and we're getting along better now but.. I'm not David. And Harvard sounds _boring_."

"At least you know where you're going," Rodney grimaced. "I'm not sure I'll ever be allowed out of my parents' sight again. They keep staring at me as though if I walk 'round a corner without them I'll drop down dead."

"How's Jeannie?" Elizabeth asked softly, and he flushed, ducking his head for a moment.

"She's -- the nightmares are better now," he said carefully. "It was just with Kolya -- I think she's glad to be home. She _needed_ to be home." And it couldn't be unexpected really, that a ten year old who'd lived through the end of a world might end up with some bad dreams in the aftermath. It wasn't even unexpected that fifteen year olds who'd lived through the same experience should end up with nightmares -- but no-one seemed to really want to talk about that.

"At least you'll be glad to be heading back home, hey, Carson?" John said, quickly changing the subject away. "What with your million siblings and --" He peered a little more closely at Carson, slightly incredulous. "Are you _sweating?_"

Carson squirmed. "It's this jumper," he admitted, tugging at the neck. "And the t-shirt. And, uh, the vest."

John stared at him, trying not to laugh. "Your parents afraid you'll catch a cold?"

"I don't think they've realized this isn't Scotland," Carson agreed uncomfortably. "Mum keeps on going on about me catching my death -- I'm bloody boiling."

"Keep treating you like you're Jeannie's age?" Rodney said sympathetically. "Mine keep trying to send me to bed at ten o' clock." He scowled. "You save the world, and when you come back you get a _bedtime._"

"You will have quiet to sleep in at least now, Rodney," Radek offered, as though in consolation. "No one will be breathing at you any more."

"I know, but it's _too _quiet now," Rodney complained. "I keep waking up and thinking you've all been kidnapped in the night, and I'm the only one left, and oh, hey, the Wraith are coming. I'd gotten used to your weird noises."

"It's.. odd," Elizabeth admitted it quietly, carefully. "I mean, I wanted to go home to my parents, but now I'm home, it's --" she hesitated, searching for the words. "We don't know what to _do_ with each other. And there doesn't seem to be _enough_ to do, not really. I keep feeling as if I should be working, doing paperwork, stopping Rodney from blowing things up or something and.. we're not meant to do any of that. Because we're fifteen."

"My people want me to be a hero." Radek owned up to it awkwardly, slightly flushed. "And... I do not know how to be a hero. I do not feel hero-shaped."

"That's all right," Rodney reassured him, "tell them it was all my work mostly. They'll understand."

It earned a snort from Radek, but John was frowning thoughtfully. "You know, they're sending Teyla and the others back to her people now," he said, "once they're packed. And.. I don't even know where they're sending Ronon."

"It's not as though he has a home to go back to," Elizabeth agreed, looking faintly worried.

"He _does_ have a home." John looked angry for a moment, shoving clothes into his case. "It's just that it's _here._"

"But no one's going to let us stay here," Carson said gently. "We're kids. We're meant to be at home. With our parents."

"Do you think we'll get to come back?" Elizabeth asked, glancing around, as though taking one last look at the place. Her lips twitched for a moment into a smile. "When we grow up?"

"If we pass the right exams." Rodney said it drily, sarcasm punctuating his words. "Get the right _qualifications._"

"You'd think saving the world would be enough qualification," John complained, then paused, hesitating. "Actually, why _isn't_ it?"

"Because the people in charge don't think it is," Elizabeth said wearily. "You know that."

"But the people in charge aren't here on the city, right? Not right now." John's face was alight, considering this new possibility. "Did they put a new ZPM in?"

"Did the doors open when you came in?" Rodney asked. "Is the light on above you? Then they put a new ZPM in. The old one was _dead._"

"We will get into trouble," Radek warned, looking a little worried as John stepped back from his case.

"Yeah? We're the people flying a giant city-ship," John pointed out. "What are they gonna do, send us to bed early?"

"John.." Elizabeth started, warningly, looking at him.

"If you don't want to come, we can send you home," John offered. "Actually, once we're in the air we can send anyone who doesn't want to be there home. No reason the stargate shouldn't work for that." He grinned. "If we can talk 'em around, we could even use it to go home for flying visits. No reason _not _to now."

She hesitated, then shook her head, starting to laugh despite herself. "You'd all only end up getting shot on your own."

"But what are we going to _do_?" Carson asked, feeling himself get pulled in, feeling the temptation of staying in the city crying out to him. Family was family, but after eight years, it was hard to deny that this was home.

"Do? Not _all_ of the Wraith-ships got caught up in our mirror-thing when we went through, did they?" John demanded eagerly. "So, we go back to the original plan -- the one they gave to Teyla, and all the other kids from other planets when they dragged them here. We do what we were always meant to do. We fight Wraith!"

* * *

"You say that the planet you destroyed was completely unpopulated." And things ended where they always seemed to end, in paperwork and an IOA meeting.

"So the kid, McKay, said." O'Neill fidgeted in his chair, impatient and ready to be out of the meeting a good half-hour ago. "They'd done the math, apparently. Billions to one chance that the universe could support life at all, let alone sentient life."

"The boy, Rodney McKay, is fifteen years old," his questioner reminded him, seeming unsatisfied with this answer. "It is to be expected that he is capable of making mistakes. Do you believe that the planet you destroyed was unpopulated?"

O'Neill hesitated. He remembered those last few minutes too clearly, the way a nightmare could linger with you for longer than it should. The moments of speeding towards the planet, seeing the Wraith-ships, and letting loose the last weapon he had, knowing that it was a mercy in this situation. The fiery hell that seemed to envelop that Earth, throwing his ship backwards.

Nothing could survive that, had it been living on the other side of the flame. Nothing at all.

Had he been able to glimpse, from space, in those last desperate moments, anything that might indicate human habitation? Would he want to remember if he had?

"Unpopulated," he said firmly, looking the other man in the eye. "No question of it."

Sometimes, you believed what you had to believe if you were ever to come away with your sanity intact.

* * *

Alarms blared once more, lights flashed red, screens filled with warnings, and O'Neill came into the gate-room at a run. A racket like that, he had learned from long experience, it was better not to wait around before investigating.

"What is it this time?" he demanded, uncaring of the meeting he had abruptly abandoned. "Not Wraith again, surely? Something like that, I want at least a year before we get another run up at it. Two apocalypses in a year is just greedy."

"Not Wraith," Jackson was already at the screen and, O'Neill noted with some relief, when he looked up, he seemed on the verge of laughter. "Your little monsters again."

"What?" O'Neill craned to see over his shoulder, and as Jackson began to reel off the long technical explanation which put into words what the screens already showed all too clearly, he found that he was laughing too, caught between humour and outrage.

Invisible and unchased, safely screened from Earth's radar screens, Atlantis rose from the ocean and vanished off into space.


End file.
